Against All Odds
by Mahone-chic-89
Summary: The Washington Capitals NHL hockey team faces their arch rivals the Pittsburgh Penguins in a fight to the finish. Treachery, deceit, and lies begin to unravel the Capitals and betrayal from within threatens to destroy the entire team. See summary inside!
1. Full Summary

**Against All Odds**

**Summary:**

The Washington Capitals have never experienced success like this before in years. A now all-star team full of young, energetic, and talented players has brought this team from the sidelines to headline news in a blinding flash. It seems like nothing in the world can stop this team from their fast-track to the Stanley Cup…nothing that is except for their old rivals, the Pittsburg, Penguins. A disgruntled player bent on revenge will do everything it takes to stop the Capitals in their tracks. But the threat doesn't simply end there…before long, the Capitals learn that one of their own is involved in a plot to take them down. Soon, the lies and corruption begin to slowly infect the Caps and their hopes and dreams of success begin to dwindle. Will the Capitals young-guns be able to stop the Penguins and destroy the threat from within their own team before it is too late, or is this really the end for the extremely young and talented NHL team?


	2. Tension

A bright ray of sunlight filtered in through the open window, lighting up the dim room. A young man in his early twenties with a scruffy face and disheveled hair moaned in complaint and pulled the covers over his face in protest. Just then his phone rang. Its shrill ring made him wince as he fumbled for it on the dresser next to his rather large bed.

"What?" he grumbled irritably into the phone as he rubbed his very tired eyes.

"Green, dude what the hell?" said a man with a thick, Russian accent, "Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't know," muttered Mike Green as he glanced at his alarm clock, "Umm, yeah nine, why?"

"We have practice at nine-thirty this morning!" the man shouted, "Dude, Boudreau is gonna _kill_ you when you get here!"

Mike's face paled slightly, "Aw crap! Dude I totally forgot about that! I thought it was at eleven like normal!"

"No, he wanted us there earlier because we're learning our new drills today, remember? Get your butt out of bed and get over here!"

"Yeah…yeah I'm coming, Alex," grumbled Mike as he scrambled out of bed, "Tell Coach that I'm really, really sorry, okay?"

Alexander Ovechkin sneered, "Yeah like that's gonna work."

"Just do it man, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah alright…just hurry up would you?"

"Yeah," muttered Mike as he hung up the phone. He ran into the bathroom, splashed water on his face and ran a comb through his wild, foe-hawk. He grabbed his bag and a hockey stick leaning against the wall and raced out of his penthouse in downtown D.C. He cursed as he ran down the stairs and jumped into his black corvette, tires squealing as he sped out of the underground garage.

…

Meanwhile, at the Kettler Iceplex along the outskirts of D.C., the rest of the Capitals hockey team was making its way out of the locker room and onto the rink for their morning skate. Coach Bruce Boudreau dumped a bucket full of pucks out onto the ice for the guys to start warming up with.

Nicklas Backstrom skated up next to Alexander Ovechkin and nudged him slightly, "Hey where's your wingman?"

Alex rolled his eyes when he saw the amusement dancing in Nicklas' brilliant blue eyes, "He's late…don't worry about it, he'll be here."

"Yeah, sure whatever you say, Ovi," laughed Nicklas, "But Green's got to step up his game. He's been losing his edge for awhile now and showing up late for practice isn't helping anything."

Ovechkin shot Nicklas a warning look. It was a known fact that Mike had had a few rough games recently but that was not an excuse for his own teammates to be judging him like that. Right before Ovechkin could come up with a sharp reply, Alexander Semin skated in-between the two fiery, young players.

"Hey you two calm down," he said good-naturedly, "Last thing we need is two of our star players at each others' throats! Green will get here when he gets here and Coach can deal with it as he sees fit. Let's worry about ourselves for now, alright?"

Ovechkin muttered something under his breath and Nicklas laughed, "Oh calm down, Ovi. I'm just messin' with you."

Ovechkin made a sharp turn and skated away from the two young men without saying a word. He and Mike were best friends and very, very protective of each other. He did not like hearing anyone say anything negative about him at all and he did not tolerate it at all either. He snatched up a puck with his stick and raced down to one end of the rink where the younger of the two goal tenders, Simeon Varlamov, was sitting in the net, stretching out his muscles. Varly looked up just in time to see Alex racing towards him. His eyes grew wide with shock as he scrambled to his feet in an effort to block the shot, but Alex was unstoppable. He drew back his stick and in a blinding flash, brought it back down to the ice. It made a sharp, cracking sound as it made contact with the puck. The puck flew through the air like a bullet and slammed into the back of the net. Varly whirled around in surprise and watched as the puck slid back out of the net. He glanced back at Ovi and his eyes widened even more when he saw that Ovechkin's stick had snapped in half. Shards of the stick flew across the ice and the blade portion flew into a section of the Plexiglas that surrounded the rink.

Instantly the entire arena grew eerily quiet as the rest of the team watched Ovechkin skate back to the bench and throw the remaining pieces of his stick down before snatching up a new one.

"Way to go, Backstrom," muttered the team's captain, Chris Clark, "You pissed off Ovi on a game day."

Backstrom shrugged, "Didn't mean to…I was just playing with him. He'll get over it, he always does."

Chris shared an exasperated look with Semin as he skated off to start his team up on some drills.

"Alright guys let's work on our defense!" shouted Chris, "Split off into groups of three and we'll practice some two on one defensive skills."

As the team gathered into different groups, a very disgruntled and panicked-looking Mike Green emerged from the locker room, nearly tripping over his own stick in his rush to get out onto the ice.

"Hey look who decided to join us!" announced Nicklas Backstrom as Mike skated onto the rink.

Ovechkin shot Nicklas a hard glare as Mike skated over to them, "Sorry guys..."

"Green!" boomed Coach Boudreau from where he was working with the other goalie, Jose Theodore, on the other side of the rink, "While the rest of the team is practicing I want you to start doing laps! Now!"

Mike winced at the harsh tone in his coach's voice. Ovechkin gave his best friend a sympathetic glance as he watched him skate over to the side of the rink to begin his laps.

"How many, Coach?" muttered Mike, dejectedly.

"I don't recall saying," snapped Boudreau as he shot his star defenseman a sharp glare and skated off to instruct the rest of his team.

Mike winced again and sighed as he started his first of many laps around the Kettler arena.

…

"Dude…that was kind of harsh of Boudreau wasn't it?" asked Jurcina as the team filed back into the locker room to change, "I mean, sure you were late and all but that was a bit much. We have a game today and you're our number one defenseman and you didn't get a minute of practice time."

Mike just shrugged as he took off his pads and piled them into his massive, black gear bag.

"It's my fault," he muttered, "I should have been here on time."

"You think?" sneered Nicklas, while he tossed one of his shoulder pads into his bag.

Ovechkin whirled around and grabbed Nicklas' collar, slamming him up against the wall. Instantly the rest of the team started yelling and grabbing Alex, trying to pry him off of Nicklas.

"Quiet!" screamed an infuriated Coach Boudreau as he stormed into the locker room.

The team grew silent and moved away from the two feuding players. Ovechkin loosened his grip off of Nicklas' collar and took a step back as Boudreau walked toward them.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he screamed in a rage as he glared at Ovechkin.

"Nothing, Coach," muttered Alex as he looked away.

"That's why you had your hands around his neck?" questioned Boudreau, giving Alex an incredulous look.

"Sorry, Coach…it won't happen again," replied Alex, shooting a warning look in Backstrom's direction.

"No…it won't," agreed Nicklas as he glared back at Alex defiantly.

"Good," snapped Boudreau, "Because I don't have time to deal with this crap. We've got a big game tonight against the Rangers and I need you all to focus on that and_ only_ that. Is that clear?"

A chorus of "yes coach" echoed around the very tense locker room.

"Good. Be at the Verizon Center at five for dinner and warm ups…and no more incidents."

Boudreau grumbled under his breath as he turned to leave the locker room. As soon as he was gone, Alex turned and grabbed his black duffel bag and walked out of the room without saying a single word to anyone.

"What the hell did you do to Ovi?" asked Varly, "He's pissed!"

Backstrom sneered, "Alex just has a bad temper, he'll be fine. I was just messing with him earlier and he can't take a joke I guess."

"Nicklas knock it off," ordered Chris Clark, "Don't cause any more problems alright? Just let it go."

Mike Green shot Backstrom an irritated look as he stood to leave the locker room, "See you all later tonight," he mumbled as he left the room.

Semin frowned slightly as he watched Mike leave. He silently prayed that everyone would shake their bad moods before the big game. It was imperative that they beat the Rangers tonight. They were close in the points race for the southeast division and the Capitals needed to be at the top of their game if they had a prayer of beating this well-seasoned and very talented team.

Mike ran to catch up with Alex as he made a bee-line for his car, trying desperately to bypass the fans that were chanting his name and begging for autographs and pictures. Mike pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and tried to hide as he ran past the fans and called out to Alex.

"Hey! Alex wait up!"

Alex turned around and motioned toward his car, "Hop in! I'll give you a ride back later to grab your car."

Mike nodded in agreement as he glanced over and saw a throng of fans around his shiny, black Corvette. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to fans. He just was not in that kind of a mood after everything that happened at practice that morning.

As soon as they were in Alex's custom-built, black sports car, they hit the gas and flew out of the parking lot.

"What the hell is his problem?" snapped Alex as he took a sharp turn and headed out of the parking garage, "Where does he get off saying that crap and criticizing you?"

"It's Nicklas," said Mike with a shrug, "He just gets like that sometimes. I don't think he ever really means anything by it; he just likes getting under people's skin once and awhile. That and he can be pretty cocky sometimes. I think he enjoys picking on people that aren't quite as up to par as he is to make himself feel better. He's still really young…he'll grow out of it eventually."

"Yeah well it's stupid," grumbled Alex, "And running his mouth about you isn't a really good idea…especially when I'm around."

Mike smirked slightly, "Aw, Alex you're such a sweetheart!" he said with a laugh.

Alex couldn't help but crack a smile at that. He reached over and punched his friend in the arm and rolled his eyes.

"Oh shut up," he laughed as they roared out of the parking garage and onto the street, "Let's go get some food, I'm starving."

Mike readily agreed as Alex stepped on the gas and, together, the two friends raced down the streets of downtown D.C….


	3. Rivalry

Sidney Crosby cursed as he watched the Washington Capitals score yet again. The Rangers were now losing two to zero and it was just the first period of the game. Crosby paced anxiously in his rather extensive pent-house in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. His best friend and teammate, Evgeni Malkin, sat on the long, white couch and frowned as he watched Crosby run his hands through his dark brown hair.

"It's alright man we'll stop them," he said, trying to calm Crosby down.

Sidney Crosby muttered something inaudible under his breath as he poured himself another glass of vodka and took a swig. He glanced back at the large, flat-screen TV and winced as he watched Ovechkin nearly score another goal for the Capitals.

"Damn him!" he cursed as he finished what was left in his glass.

Malkin sneered as he watched Ovechkin head back to the box, trading places with the second line. "We play them in a week, right?"

"Yeah, and we sure as hell better beat them when we do," snarled Crosby as he glared at the screen, his dark eyes flashing with anger.

"We will," Malkin assured him, "We don't really have a choice. We have to stay ahead right now in the points before…"

"Screw the points," sneered Crosby, "I just want to make Ovechkin pay!"

"For what?" asked Malkin, "I mean I know you two hate each other and all because you're both great players, but there's got to be more to it than that."

"You know why," grumbled Crosby as he continued pacing back and forth across the room, glancing hesitantly at the screen, "I nearly got passed by for the draft to the NHL thanks to him."

"Yeah you told me that," replied Malkin as he took a swig of his own vodka, "But you never told me what he did to screw you over."

Crosby's eyes grew hard with fury as he remembered what happened a few years ago. "We were in an exhibition game. He played for the Hershey Bears at the time and I played for a minor league in Florida. It was one of the last games of the season and the scouts were looking to make their final decisions on who to bring up to the big league. Ovechkin was my only real competition. Everyone said I was a shoe-in and to not worry about it because there was no way I couldn't be picked…no way except for _him,_" he snarled as he pointed at the TV screen, "He was just as good as I was. We were matched perfectly in the statistics. Instead of doing what most players would do and just play the game, do your best and pray that your best is good enough, Ovechkin decided he was going to _insure_ that he was chosen for the draft. I had the puck and I was racing toward the net. Alex was hard on my heels, I knew that. I also knew that he was an incredibly fast skater so I was trying to zigzag to avoid him. Next thing I know I'm laid out on the ice and my teammates are all around me yelling at me to wake up. He had hooked me from behind and jerked back hard. I hit the ice so hard that my helmet flew off and my head smacked the ice…knocked me out cold. That all happened during the first period so I was out for the rest of the game. So instead of watching me, the scouts got to give their undivided attention to Alex. He was the first one they chose for the draft. Thankfully they checked the stats and realized that I was just as qualified as he was so they picked me as well…but I was the last one picked. I should have been first and Ovechkin knows that. Had he not made that illegal move I would've been."

Malkin frowned, "But he had to have gotten a penalty for that move. So he had some off-ice time then right?"

Crosby rolled his eyes at that, "Yeah they just gave him a two-minute minor for hooking. It should have been more than that for the injury I sustained, but…" Crosby shrugged and glared back at the screen just in time to see Ovechkin pass the puck across to Backstrom. Nicklas' stick came up and down in a blinding flash and the puck sailed cleanly into the net.

Crosby cursed and threw his glass of vodka across the room. It slammed into the far wall of his penthouse and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.

"But I for one won't let him get away with it," he snarled, his eyes flashing with unbridled fury, "Mark my words…Ovechkin will pay for what he did…"

…

The crowd in the Verizon Center in downtown D.C. was going insane. The entire place seemed to have its own unique pulse as the crowd cheered on their heroes.

Down on the ice, the Caps were celebrating their latest goal by Backstrom with an amazing assist from Ovechkin.

"That pass was killer, man!" shouted Semin as he and Ovechkin bumped helmets.

"Nice shot, Nicklas," said Mike Green as he gave Backstrom a high-five.

Nicklas smiled and nodded, "Yeah it was nothing…Ovi had the great pass."

Alexander Semin smirked slightly as he watched Ovechkin, Green and Backstrom celebrate their goal. Just a few short hours ago the three young players had been at each others' throats. Semin could not help shaking his head and smiling at the thought. Those three could come to nearly killing each other and then get over it in such a short amount of time.

"Kids," he muttered to defenseman, Jon Erskine.

Erskine laughed and nodded in agreement as they all headed back to the bench to trade out with the Capitals second line.

…

"C-A-P-S, Caps, Caps, Caps!" chanted Backstrom as he and the team filed back into their locker room.

Mike Green laughed as he got tackled from behind by Poti and Erskine. The trio fell to the floor in a tangled heap as Alex Ovechkin and Alex Semin walked into the very loud and crowded locker room. The two Alex's laughed as they watched Mike scramble up from the bottom of the dog-pile that was quickly beginning to form on top of him.

"Green, man that last goal was epic!" shouted the goal-tender, Varlamov as he ruffled Mike's hair.

"Not as good as the goal tending was tonight," said Mike as he jokingly shoved Varly away from him, "Dude you were on your A-game tonight, man!"

"Hell, at this rate we're gonna make it to the playoffs, easy!" agreed Jurcina as he high-fived captain, Chris Clark.

Clark smiled broadly as he glanced around the locker room and watched his team celebrate their victory. They had beaten the Rangers four to zero in their first shut-out game of the season. It was a phenomenal victory by the Capitals and they had every reason to be celebrating this great accomplishment. He could not help smiling a bit as he watched Ovechkin, Green, and Backstrom congratulating each other and acting like little kids as they jumped around the locker room with excitement. The Three Musketeers seemed to have let go of whatever animosity had broken them up earlier that morning, and Clark was very, very glad. They seemed to set the mood for the rest of the team and when they all got along and were happy, so was the rest of the team. He just hoped that they stayed this way for a good, long while…

…

A very satisfied-looking Sidney Crosby skated coolly onto the ice at the Penguins training facility in downtown Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. He smirked as he snatched up a puck with his stick and skated slowly around the rink.

"What are you all smiles about?" asked his best friend, Malkin as he skated up next to Crosby.

"My informant is being…well, very informative," he said with a sadistic chuckle, "This is turning out to be more successful than I thought it would be."

Malkin frowned and gave Crosby a doubtful look as they skated around a group of their fellow players working on defensive drills.

"Are you sure that he'd sell out Ovechkin for _money_?" he asked skeptically, "I mean it's not like the guy doesn't have enough money or anything. He gets paid well too."

"It's not just the money he's after," reassured Crosby, nodding a greeting to their goal tender as they rounded the corner of the rink, "It's also status. I can almost guarantee him a position on our team if he does this for me. Hopefully he'll be one of us by the time playoffs start up for this season."

"Wait…why in the world would he want to be one of us?" questioned Malkin, still feeling very doubtful about his best friend's plan, "He's a Cap to the core…always has been. Why would he want to change that?"

Crosby laughed as he shot a puck at the empty net on the other side of the rink. It slammed into the back of the net and bounced back out. Sidney Crosby gave it a satisfied glance before turning back to face Malkin.

"Well he's obviously not all that dedicated. He's ambitious just like me…he wants to be better than he is right now. The Caps are smothering him. Ovechkin gets all the glory and he gets shoved to the wayside. He'd be able to shine here if he was on our team. And keep in mind, my good friend, we did win the Stanley Cup last season. Everyone wants to be part of a winning team. When's the last time the Caps ever won a Stanley Cup? Never, so in summary he wants more money, he wants to stand out and show off what he's got, and he wants to win a championship. Those are more than enough reasons for him to stab Ovechkin in the back and stay loyal to me. He hasn't let me down yet and all the information he's feeding me hasn't been anything but accurate. Once we learn of all their plays, strategies, favorite sticks, favorite types of shots, favorite line-ups, and anything else he can give me, then I'll make a few calls and just like that…" Crosby paused to shoot another puck into the empty net, "We'll have ourselves another Stanley Cup, and a new superstar addition to our team."

Malkin could not help but smile slightly at the sound of that. Despite the fact that he was a Capitals' player, he was phenomenal and he would make a great addition to their team. That and the information that he could provide them was invaluable. They would be able to defeat their archrivals and move forward in the race to win the Eastern Division, and ultimately, the Stanley Cup for the second year in a row.

"Alright," said Malkin after a moment, "So what else do you need me to do?"

Crosby smiled broadly at that, "That's my boy!" he exclaimed as he smacked his best friend on the back, "Come on…my team is waiting for their captain to give them their orders for practice."

"Lead on," laughed Malkin as he followed his best friend and team captain to the other side of the rink where the rest of the Penguins were waiting…


	4. Friendship

Two weeks later…

"Ovi!"

Alex looked up just in time to duck out of the way as a puck flew through the air, narrowly missing his head as it sailed by.

"Sorry!" shouted Mike from the other side of the Kettler Iceplex Arena.

Alex glared at his best friend through narrowed eyes, "Are you _trying _to kill me?" he asked, attempting to hide his slightly amused grin.

Captain Chris Clark could not help smirking as he skated past Ovechkin, "Wouldn't be the first time you two tried to take each other out."

Matt Bradley and David Steckel gave each other a knowing look as they skated up to Ovechkin and Clark.

"Yeah…like the time you slammed Mike into the boards during practice and knocked him out cold for a good five minutes," said Bradley as he and Steckel shared a good laugh over the memory.

Mike laughed sarcastically and rolled his eyes as he skated over to them, "Ha ha that's hilarious," he muttered, "You wouldn't have thought it was so funny if you had a migraine for the rest of the day."

"Hey it's not like I did it on purpose!" laughed Alex as he punched Mike in the arm, "I love you buddy you know that."

"Yeah," laughed Mike as he rolled his eyes again, "If that's true you have a hell of a way of showing it!"

"This coming from the guy who just almost decapitated me!" said Alex as he punched Mike again in the arm.

"You are so freaking dramatic," retorted Mike as Nicklas Backstrom skated over to join them.

"What are you guys arguing about now?" he asked with a smirk.

"You don't wanna know," murmured Steckel, "Come on Bradley, Backstrom, I need to work on the three on one defensive stuff some more."

Nicklas laughed, "And you wanna go against _me_? Dude, you're done!"

"Well at least you aren't cocky or anything, Nick," laughed Bradley as the three players skated to the other end of the rink.

"So what's with you guys and Backstrom?" questioned Clark once the other three players had skated out of hearing distance.

"What do you mean?" asked Ovechkin as he and Mike exchanged confused looks.

"The three of you used to be inseparable and now you barely talk to each other anymore. What's going on?"

Mike sighed and shrugged as he glanced back over his shoulder to see Backstrom sweep the puck away from Steckel and race toward the open net.

"I don't know," he murmured, "I mean it's not like we're mad at him or anything. He just…he's been really distant for awhile now."

"Yeah…just quiet I guess," agreed Alex, "He still talks to us and he'll practice with us but we haven't hung out with him in a couple weeks. He's probably just got his own stuff going on, like a girlfriend or something."

Clark frowned slightly, "But the three of you are best friends right?"

Alex and Mike glanced at each other and nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, so?" asked Mike, "Doesn't mean we tell each other every detail of our lives. Backstrom's fine…he's just keeping to himself a bit more, that's all."

"If you say so," muttered Clark, "Alright you boys head down there with the rest of the team and help them out on the three on one defensive skills."

Clark watched Ovechkin and Green race each other down the ice to the other side of the rink and frowned slightly. He glanced over at Backstrom and watched as he practiced with Bradley and Steckel. Nicklas looked up as Alex and Mike joined the group. Alex turned and said something to him and Nicklas nodded as he moved into the defensive position and waited for Alex and Mike to rush him. Clark watched the trio practice for a couple minute before he finally sighed and skated over to join them. He silently hoped that he was just being paranoid. Maybe there really wasn't anything to worry about. As he watched Backstrom, Green, and Ovechkin laugh and joke around with each other during practice his worries started to ebb. They started to look just like the Three Musketeers they had always been.

"Lighten up, old boy," muttered Clark to himself, "Stop being so paranoid…there's nothing to worry about…"

…

"The Caps are on a role baby!" shouted Ovechkin as he, Mike Green and Nicklas Backstrom left the Verizon Center after another amazing victory.

"Stanley Cup baby here we come!" agreed Mike as he and Nicklas exchanged high-fives.

"I say we celebrate," said Ovechkin, "Buffalo Wild Wings?"

"Hell yeah!" shouted Backstrom, suddenly looking very enthusiastic.

Mike smirked, "You would get that excited about food!" he laughed as he playfully shoved Backstrom, "I mean you don't say a word when we destroy the Florida Panthers, but you yell like a wild man at the mention of wings!"

Alex laughed as Backstrom jumped on Mike's back in an attempt to drag him to the ground of the parking garage. Mike Green was solid muscle and had at least a good fifty to seventy-five pounds on the shorter, less muscular offenseman. He reached around and grabbed Nicklas bent over and flipped him over his back. Nicklas cried out in surprise when he found himself looking up at a very victorious-looking Mike Green. Mike laughed as he began to pummel his friend.

"Alex!" cried out Nicklas in desperation, "Are you just gonna stand there and let him beat me up like this!?"

Alex just laughed and crossed his arms as he watched the spectacle, "Yes Nicklas, that's exactly what I'm going to do actually. It's free entertainment!"

"Oh, gee thanks bud!" laughed Nicklas as he tried to squirm away from Mike Green. Mike laughed and finally moved away from Nicklas, allowing him to get back to his feet.

"Alright, alright I give up already!" laughed Nicklas as he held up his hands in surrender, "Can we just go get wings now?"

Alex and Mike laughed as they all climbed into Mike's black corvette and raced out of the parking garage and onto the streets of downtown D.C.

…


	5. Rift

_I apologize for the delayed update…I'm still in school right now so I haven't had a lot of time to write. But once I'm out of school I plan to write a lot more. Thank you sooo much to those who have been reviewing!!! I really appreciate the feedback! : ) _

_Two weeks later…_

Ovechkin cursed irritably as he watched the puck clang into the goalpost and ricocheted, nearly hitting Jon Erskine in the process. Alex gave Erskine an apologetic look as Captain Chris Clarke skated over. He put his hand on his younger teammate's shoulder and gave him a worried look.

"You okay?" he asked quietly so that the rest of the team would not hear them.

Alex frowned slightly as he made eye-contact with his mentor and good friend. Alex knew that he could trust Chris. He had been the team captain for several seasons now and had taught him many things about both hockey and life in general. Chris had always been like an older, protective brother for Alex from day one. When he had first joined the team he did not know hardly any English at all and felt very left out. It was Chris who went out of his way to insure that Ovechkin was included in all the team activities both on and off the ice. Alex always felt comfortable with Chris and knew from experience that he could trust him with anything. Chris was not a "talker." He knew how to keep secrets.

Alex sighed, "Its Nicky" he murmured quietly as he glanced over his shoulder. Nicolas Backstrom was bouncing a puck on the blade of his stick as he approached the net and batted it in. Chris frowned slightly and gave Alex a quizzical look.

"What's with Nicolas?" he asked as Alex glanced down at the ice.

"That's just it…I have no idea. He used to tell me and Mike everything. The three of us used to be so close but lately things are just…weird. I mean we haven't hung out since that time we all went to Buffalo Wild Wings. Since then he's always busy with something but he never tells us what he's up to. I don't know what's going on but he's just never around anymore."

"Sounds like he's got a woman," smirked Chris, attempting to lighten the mood.

Ovechkin shook his head, "Nah if he had a woman he'd be bragging about it. Something's wrong and I want to know what it is."

Alex and Chris turned to watch Mike skate over to Nicolas. Mike tried to strike up a conversation but Nicolas just shrugged and skated away. Mike glanced over at Alex and Chris, shook his head in despair and shrugged as if to say, "I give up."

"See?" muttered Alex dejectedly, "That's what I'm talking about. It's like he doesn't want anything to do with us anymore."

"Let's go! Look alive!" shouted Coach Boudreau as he walked out onto the ice in his warm-up suit and tennis shoes, "Stop playing around I want to see you all doing drills!"

Chris gave Alex a sympathetic glance, "Just keep trying to talk to him. Maybe he's just having a rough time with something."

"Maybe," muttered Alex as he skated over to Mike. The two best friends exchanged worried glances as Chris began to split the team up into groups of three to run some offense drills.

"What are we supposed to do?" muttered Mike as he waited for Chris to finish counting everyone off, "Alex…something's really wrong. I just, I don't know, I just have a really bad feeling about this."

"I have no idea," murmured Alex as he and Green skated over to join Brooks Laich, "I'll try and talk to him in the locker room after practice."

Mike nodded as he and Laich turned to face Alex. Alex snatched up a puck and raced down the ice. Mike slipped easily into Alex's shooting lane while Laich moved to the side for back-up. Mike's stick lashed out suddenly and Alex jerked to the side, narrowly missing the long reach of his best friend's stick. He moved deftly away from Laich and raced toward the net where Varlamov was waiting. Varly's glove hand was up, his stick poised to block the shot. Every muscle in his body tensed as he anticipated where Alex was going with the puck. Alex's stick went up in the air as he prepared to shoot the puck when suddenly a stick slid across the ice, knocking the puck away from him and to the other side of the rink. Alex whirled around in surprise and saw Mike Green standing behind him with a sheepish grin on his face.

"What?" he asked with a shrug, "I had to do _something_ didn't I?"

Alex rolled his eyes, "You threw your stick at me!" he laughed in disbelief.

Coach Boudreau was laughing from the bench as he watched Alex put Mike into a headlock and pretend to punch him in the face.

"Alright, knock it off you two," he yelled after a minute, "Back to practice, let's go!"

Nicklas Backstrom, Chris Clark and Tom Poti were working the other side of the rink. Nicklas was playing offense while Clark and Poti were attempting to stop his mad rush to the net. Poti moved smoothly into the shooting lane and easily swiped away the puck from Nicklas. Nicklas swore loudly and slapped his stick on the ice.

"Hey, no worries Nicky," assured Chris Clark as he skated up to him and put his hand on his shoulder, "Happens to the best of us."

Nicklas shrugged off his hand and skated quickly away, cursing under his breath. He made a bee-line for the bench and threw his stick down on the ground. He ripped off his helmet and threw it against the wall as he stormed back into the locker room. The rest of the team watched in surprise as Backstrom made his rather abrupt and angry exit from the rink. Boudreau muttered something under his breath before he blew the whistle and announced that practice was over for the day.

Ovechkin and Green exchanged surprised and concerned looks. "Yeah," muttered Mike, "I think we should talk to him now."

….

Backstrom was still fuming in the locker room after practice when the team filed in. They gave Nicklas a wide berth as they took off their gear and hit the showers. Alex glanced over at Nicklas as the younger man angrily stuffed his gear into his large duffel bag.

"Nicky," murmured Alex so that everyone else would not hear him, "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it," snarled Nicklas with such intensity that Alex took a step back in surprise.

"What the hell, Nick?" he asked, looking rather hurt, "What's your deal? You never hang out with me or Mike anymore and now you're snapping at everyone for no reason. What gives?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," seethed Nicklas as he snatched up his duffel bag and pushed past Alex.

Alex shot Mike an irritated look as he turned to follow Nicklas out of the locker room. Mike sighed in frustration and decided that he had better go in case he had to split up a fight.

"Alex," warned Mike under his breath, "Take it easy."

"No, I'm sick of this!" snapped Alex as he stomped angrily after Nicklas.

"NICK!" Alex's booming voice echoed throughout the parking garage as he walked up behind Backstrom.

Nicklas whirled around and threw his duffel bag on the ground as Alex approached.

"Leave me the hell alone, Alex!"

"No I'm over it!" snarled Alex as he approached his once very close friend, "I'm sick of you treating everyone like crap. I'm sick of this introverted crap you've been pulling for the past few weeks. You're affecting everyone around you and it's getting old! Now what the hell is going on?"

A look of fear and guilt passed over Nicklas' face before he looked away and stared at the ground. Alex caught the look and his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Nicklas, what the hell?" he asked, his voice growing a bit quieter and less agitated, "Talk to me, man what's going on?"

"I…I can't," he muttered, looking lost and dejected, "I…I'm sorry I have to go."

"Nicky!" pleaded Mike as he walked up from behind Alex. He gave his friend a pleading look, "Nicky…come on…"

Backstrom shook his head as he walked away, "I…I can't," he repeated as he climbed into his Porsche and started the engine. Alex and Mike stood and watched as Nicklas pulled quickly out of the parking spot and sped away.

Mike put his hands on his head and sighed, "What the hell do we do now?"

…


	6. Warning

**Thank you so much to those who are reading and reviewing! It is really appreciated! Sorry for the long wait for an update and thank you for your patience! Enjoy! : ) **

Sidney Crosby paced impatiently in his hotel room. He growled under his breath while Malkin sat on the couch watching his best friend with wary eyes. Sidney had a history of exploding with anger with little to no warning and he was looking a little edgy already.

"This is unraveling," murmured Sidney as he paced, "I'm telling you, he's cracking."

"What makes you say that?" asked Malkin, "I thought things were going pretty smooth. I mean, he's still feeding us the information we need."

"Yeah but he's getting nervous…jittery," muttered Crosby, "I'm losing confidence."

"Well we'll just have to remind him what is riding on the information he's feeding us," assured Malkin, "I'm sure he'll get his head back in the game."

Crosby muttered something inaudibly under his breath just as someone knocked on the hotel room door. Crosby shot Malkin a look, "That's him."

Malkin stood as Crosby walked over and slowly opened the door and peered outside.

"It's about time," he snapped irritably as he opened the door all the way, "We've been waiting."

"Practice ran over longer than expected," retorted Nicklas Backstrom as he glared at Crosby, "I got held up."

"Did you get what I asked for?" demanded Crosby, ignoring Backstrom's excuses.

"Yeah," grumbled Backstrom as he pulled out a stack of papers from his duffel bag and handed them over to Crosby, "It's all there…roster, planned line-ups for the playoffs, goalie options, a few new plays we've developed and some other stuff."

A grin slowly spread across Crosby's face as he flipped through the stack of papers, "Well done, Nicky. You've redeemed yourself. I've been worrying about your performance lately. You seem a bit shaky."

Backstrom looked away and shrugged, "Yeah well you try stabbing your friends in the back sometime and tell me how you feel."

Crosby whirled around and grabbed Nicklas by the collar and violently threw him up against the wall. Malkin gaped in shock, "Sid! What the hell?"

"Shut up!" snapped Sidney over his shoulder, "And _you_," he snarled as he turned his face back to Backstrom, "You knew what you were getting into when you signed on for this! You know what's at stake and you know what will happen if you do this for us…you also know what will happen if you _don't_ do what I've asked."

"Let go," growled Nicklas as he glared defiantly back at Crosby. 

Crosby tightened his grip on Backstrom's collar and yanked him down to the ground. Backstrom fell hard and cried out when his head smacked the floor.

"Don't you _ever_ tell _me_ what to do!" roared Crosby as he pushed Nicklas' face into the carpet of the hotel room, "You hear me?"

"Yeah," muttered Nicklas as Crosby loosened his grip and stepped away so that he could stand up. Nicklas struggled to get back to his feet, using the counter to pull himself up.

Malkin looked appalled. He shot a disgusted look at Crosby and shook his head, "Sid this wasn't part of the deal! You never said we had to _hurt_ him!"

"Let me handle this," grumbled Crosby as he watched Nicklas regain his composure, "Now, suck it up and get back to work. Do what you've been told to do and everything will be fine. If you screw up, you know what will happen."

"Go screw yourself," snarled Nicklas as he wiped away a small trail of blood from his nose, "I'm done…I'm not doing this anymore."

A look of pure rage crossed Crosby's face. His hands slowly formed into tight fists and he felt himself begin to shake with barely suppressed rage.

"Then you know what will happen," he growled, "You think giving me information about your friends is selling them out? Just wait until you see what happens next. You'll come crawling back soon enough, Nicky."

Nicklas sneered and waved Crosby off as he turned to leave. He snatched up the pile of papers and stuffed them into his duffel bag on his way out. He shot one more defiant glare in Crosby's direction before he turned and stormed out of the small hotel room.

"Crosby what the hell?" shouted Malkin after Nicklas closed the door.

"You said you were in on this," growled Crosby, "Are you really? Because if you are you're going to have to be willing to get down and dirty. Things are about to get very, very rough for the Washington Capitals…"

_Two days later…_

"Yo, where's Mike at?" called Captain Chris Clark as he counted everyone off in the locker room.

Alex Ovechkin glanced around the room and furrowed his brow in confusion, "I dunno…haven't seen him yet. Maybe he overslept again or…"

A sudden gasp of surprise stopped Alex in mid-sentence. The team turned to see what was going on and instantly their jaws dropped in shock. Mike Green walked slowly into the locker room with a look of disbelief, pain, and fear in his eyes. His entire face looked like one bruise. He had several bruises and cuts on his arms and he had one arm wrapped around his side as he stumbled into the locker room.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Alex as he ran over to help his friend, "What happened to you?"

"I was on my way home last night from the rink," said Mike, his voice sounding strained and tense with pain, "And these guys…were waiting for me outside my penthouse. I parked the Lamborghini and got out and they jumped me. I don't have any idea who they were. All I know is that they were obviously pissed about something and beat the hell out of me. I don't think I can practice today."

"Don't think you can practice?" exclaimed Chris Clark, "Mikey I don't think you'll be playing for awhile much less practicing. You're in rough shape, buddy."

Nicklas felt the color drain from his face as he listened to Mike's story. He knew all too well who must have done this to him. He instantly felt sick to his stomach and fought the urge to puke right there in the locker room. He watched in numb silence as the team helped get Mike settled on the bench so he could watch the practice and talk to Coach Boudreau while the rest of them skated around the rink. He took a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself and attempt to settle his churning stomach. He turned to open his locker and pull out some of his gear when Erskine tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around in surprise and Erskine took a shocked step back.

"Sorry dude," apologized Erskine as he handed Nicklas an envelope, "Didn't mean to startle you. Someone left you this note at the front desk so I thought I'd get it to you before practice. See you on the rink!"

Erskine slapped Nicklas on the back and hurried out of the locker room to join the rest of the team out on the rink. Nicklas' hands were shaking as he slowly opened the envelope. He pulled out a thin piece of paper and read it:

_Still want to stop working for me, Nicky? Didn't think so…call me. SOON._

The handwriting was unmistakable. It was Sidney Crosby. Nicklas felt his stomach churn again and made a bee-line for the bathroom. After a few minutes he emerged again, shaky, pale, and terrified of what would happen next. He had to go back to the Penguins…he didn't have a choice…

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	7. Treachery

**Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing my story! I really appreciate it! I won't be available for 2 weeks so I won't be able to update during that time but I will make it up to you guys I promise! Enjoy!**

"So you see, it worked beautifully," explained a rather excited Sidney Crosby has he skated around the Penguins' practice rink.

Malkin sighed, "Yeah I know but the guy is gonna be one of us eventually. Don't you think smashing his face into the ground is a little much? And what about Green? That wasn't necessary."

Crosby's eyes glittered with anger for a second and Malkin flinched.

"Look…you said you were willing to do anything to take down the Capitals, right?"

Malkin nodded reluctantly.

"Good…then this is what it's going to take. I need to instill some fear into Backstrom to make him realize how dead serious I am. This isn't child's play anymore. This is the real deal," Crosby snatched a puck up with his stick and shot it at the empty net. He smiled in satisfaction as it slid easily into the crease. "He dropped off the papers I asked for. Guess he did take the hint."

Evengi Malkin did not look very convinced. He frowned as he watched his team mate smile and joke around with the other members of their team. Malkin found it concerning that Crosby showed no remorse or looked the slightest bit uneasy about what they had done to Mike Green. It worried him…no, it _scared_ Malkin. He briefly wondered what else his best friend might be capable of and he shuddered at the thought. Crosby was so dead set on stopping the Capitals and getting his revenge on Ovechkin that Malkin was terrified about what could happen next…

…

Backstrom felt horrible. As he skated past his teammates a feeling of dread and guilt hit him yet again, making his stomach twist into the terrible knots that had been plaguing him the past couple of months. Playoffs were steadily approaching and he knew that they had special meaning for him this time. As he skated laps around the rink he reflected on what had transpired between him and Sidney Crosby that fateful day…

_It was early that morning when Backstrom arrived at the Capitals practice facility. He parked his car in the parking garage and made his way to the elevator to head to the rink. A shadow crossed his path and he froze just as a young man stepped out from behind a large SUV. _

"_Hello there Nicky," crooned none other than Sidney Crosby._

_Backstrom felt his heart skip a beat as fear and shock coursed through his body. Suddenly, more people stepped out from the shadows and stood behind Crosby. Nicklas took a step back as he suddenly realized how outnumbered he was. Half of the Penguins team was here…at the Kettler Iceplex. _

"_I have a proposition for you," continued Crosby as he stepped forward, "I've been watching you…and you have a great skill set that is invaluable. You also have a lot of ambition. I'm sure it's tough living in Ovechkin's shadow…especially for someone as talented as you."_

_Despite his fear and confusion Backstrom couldn't help agreeing with what Crosby was saying. It was true that he was very talented but his talent was often overshadowed by Ovechkin's grandeur. And yes he was ambitious…he had always pushed himself to do better and to play harder. _

"_What are you doing here?" said Backstrom quietly, still unsure as to what was going on._

"_I'm here to help you out," replied Crosby as he circled Backstrom, 'You see…by helping you I'm also helping myself. You know how I feel about your team and especially how I feel about Ovechkin."_

_Backstrom flinched slightly at that as he remembered the rivalry that had lasted for a couple years now between the two great hockey players._

"_You see, Nicky, you have a set of skills I'm in desperate need of for my team," continued Crosby, "And I have a proposition for you. If you do as I've asked not only will I get what I want…but you'll finally get the attention and the fame that you deserve."_

"_What…what do I have to do?" asked Backstrom, feeling a pang of guilt that he was about to make a deal with his team's arch enemy._

_Crosby smiled coyly at his question, knowing that he had Backstrom right where he wanted him._

"_Here's how it's going to work. You bring me any and all information about your team, especially information concerning the playoffs this year. I want everything from starting lineups to who you plan to put in net. Any new plays you develop, any potential trades the team is looking to make, I want to know about it. In return for this flow of information you will be given a guaranteed spot on my team for the playoffs. You see, on the Penguins you'll have the opportunity to shine. Here the only person shining is Ovechkin. On the Penguins your name will be well known and your skills will be much more appreciated. You'll be treated a lot better too. I mean wouldn't you rather play for a team that has actually won the Stanley rather than some rag-tag team that'll never really amount to anything?"_

_Backstrom flinched a little at Crosby's last comment. Despite the fact that the Capitals had never won a Stanley Cup, Backstrom had always thought of them as a solid, competitive team. They all got along well together and played their hearts out every game. But…Crosby did have a point. To play for a Stanley Cup champion team was more than just enticing…it was everything he had ever dreamed of. And to have people call out his name rather than Ovechkin's all the time would be nice as well. _

_Crosby smiled confidently as he watched Backstrom contemplate his offer. He glanced back over at Malkin and the two friends shared knowing looks. The plan was going just as they had hoped it would. Backstrom was seriously considering the offer._

"_So…what do you think?" asked Crosby after a moment, "Are you on board?"_

_Backstrom glanced around at the Penguins team. They were all looking at him expectantly and almost excitedly. Backstrom noted that they were all very ambitious guys. He liked that…he needed to be part of a team that was more ambitious and didn't goof off as much as his team did. With a smile he nodded in agreement._

"_Yeah…yeah count me in."_

_Crosby slapped him heartily on the back while the rest of the team clapped for him._

"_That's what I'm talkin' about!" exclaimed Crosby as he put an arm over Backstrom's shoulders, "Ladies and Gentlemen…the future of the Pittsburgh Penguins!"_

_More clapping ensued as Backstrom smiled and sheepishly looked at the ground._

"_Now, get me that information," said Crosby as he and the rest of his team moved back to their SUV, "Send it to me ASAP. You'll be hearing from me soon."_

_Backstrom nodded as he watched the SUV speed out of the garage. Just then, Ovechkin came up from behind Backstrom._

"_Wow, think they can slow it down a bit?" he asked with a smirk on his face._

_Backstrom felt the blood drain from his face as he whirled around to face Alex._

"_What? What do you mean?" he asked hurriedly._

_Ovechkin gave Backstrom a confused look, "The SUV….whoever was driving it was in a hurry. They had to be going forty and that's pretty fast in a parking garage. Why are you so jittery?"_

"_Um…nothing," said Backstrom with a relieved sigh as he realized that Ovechkin had not seen who was in the SUV._

_Ovechkin smirked, "You're a strange one, Nicky. Come on we gotta get changed out before Boudreau yells at us for being late."_

_Backstrom nodded and followed Ovechkin to the elevator. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of where the SUV had gone and smiled to himself…_

…

Backstrom shook his head angrily, trying to forget the event so he could focus on practice. He wished desperately that he had never made this deal with Crosby. He longed to hang out with his friends like he used to, but now guilt had overwhelmed him so much that he couldn't bring himself to be around them anymore than what was required. He just wanted it to be over with…he was going to be a Penguin within a few short weeks. He just had to keep low until then. Just then he glanced over and saw Green and Ovechkin murmuring quietly to each other and glancing in his direction. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Keeping low may be easier said than done…

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	8. Change

_3 weeks later…_

Chris Clark walked into the locker room just in time to see Mike Green throw one of his pads across the room. It slammed into a locker and bounced back down onto the floor.

"I'm sick of it! Just sick of it!" he said as ripped off the rest of his pads.

Ovechkin looked on, somewhat stunned by his best friend's behavior. Mike was normally a quiet, more calm kind of guy who dealt with stress in a more civilized manner than throwing pads across the locker room. The fury in his friend's eyes and tenseness he could see in Mike's shoulders alarmed him.

"I mean it this time, OV!" screamed Mike as he pulled off his practice jersey, "I can't work with him like this in practice, how the hell can I play alongside him?"

Chris frowned as he walked over to the infuriated Mike Green, "Mike…what's going on buddy?"

"Freakin' Backstrom!" exploded Mike, "I'm sick of it! I mean it's one thing if he doesn't want anything to do with me or Alex, whatever I gave up on that already. But he's out there moping around, screwing up, not paying attention…it's like he doesn't even care! Playoffs are in a freaking month and he doesn't even care!"

Just then Nicklas Backstrom walked into the locker room and was met with an icy glare from Mike Green. He flinched under his old friend's glare and shied away to the other side of the locker room. Ovechkin ran his hand through his hair and sighed, looking defeated.

"Gather 'round boys!" boomed Coach Boudreau as he entered the locker room.

The rest of the team filed off the rink and entered the locker room. Once they were quieted down Boudreau began to speak.

"Okay…I have an announcement to make and it's not pretty," he said, looking rather downcast.

The players glanced at each other, looking uneasy as they waited.

"You all are aware that trade-offs occur frequently right before playoff season…"

Instantly the air in the room seemed to dissipate as the team tensed up, preparing for the worst. The Capitals were a close team and the sound of someone leaving horrified them. Backstrom began to fidget nervously in the back of the room. He ran a hand through his thick, blonde hair and twirled his stick nervously between his hands.

"I'm sad to say that our Captain, Chris Clark, has been traded to the Carolina Hurricanes."

Gasps of shock filled the room as everyone turned to look at Chris. He was utterly flabbergasted and gaped in shock. Ovechkin felt as if someone had just punched him in the gut. He and Mike exchanged devastated looks. Chris Clark had been a long-time mentor to them. He was the kind of guy one could trust and go to for anything. He had done his best to help them with the issues they had with Backstrom. His caring, compassionate nature made him like an older brother to most of the team. Losing him was heartbreaking.

Mike sneered as he threw his stick up against the locker in fury, "Just when you thought this shit couldn't get any worse…"

…

Nicklas Backstrom felt sick to his stomach for the hundredth time in the past several weeks as he knocked on a hotel room door. The Penguins were in town after playing the Hurricanes the night before and Crosby was demanding that they meet face to face to discuss what was going on between their teams.

"Ah there you are, Nicky," said Crosby with a big smile on his face as he led Backstrom into the room, "Great to see ya. Evengi is here with me. We just wanted to talk over a few things with you. Please, sit…make yourself comfortable."

Crosby walked over to the counter and began to pour some wine into glasses while Backstrom took a seat across from Evengi Malkin. Malkin nodded to him and gave him, what Backstrom perceived to be, an apologetic and almost guilty look.

"Here you go," said Crosby as he set the wine glasses down on the table in front of them, "Now…what do you have for me, Nicky?"

Backstrom took a sip of wine before he continued, "They traded our Captain…he's with the Canes now."

Crosby raised an eyebrow in surprise at this news, "They traded Chris Clark? What a boneheaded move…the man's a good player. Any word on who will take the Captain position?"

Backstrom shook his head, "No…we haven't heard anything. Apparently it was really unexpected. The team isn't taking it well at all."

"Well you lost your captain…it's to be expected," answered Malkin.

"Just wait till they find out where you're going," smirked Crosby, "I look forward to that day. By the way Nicky…that day is going to come a tad sooner than you expected."

Backstrom felt his heart drop at the sound of that, "What do you mean? When?"

"How's next week sound?"

Backstrom almost spit out his mouthful of wine at the sound of that, "Next _week_?" he said, his voice rising in panic.

"It's only three and a half weeks till playoffs," laughed Crosby as he sipped his wine, "And we need to train you up…make sure you're fit to play by Penguin's standards. So next week an announcement will come that you've been traded. We'll be making the deal with your agent in a couple days."

Horror filled Backstrom's mind as he realized that he only had a few short days left as a Capital before he became a Penguin. At one point in time the thought would have thrilled him…to be on a Stanley Cup-winning team…but now it only terrified him. He was about to leave behind his best friends. He was committing the ultimate act of betrayal. He only prayed that Ovechkin and Green would never find out what he did to be a Penguin. If he was lucky they would assume it was just a trade-off deal and that nothing had gone on behind the scenes.

"By the way…we got your jersey made for you," smirked Crosby as he slid a box over to Backstrom, "Go ahead…open it."

Backstrom swallowed the bile that had made its way up into his throat and set down his glass. He slowly opened up the box and peered inside. He lifted the black jersey up and stared at it. On the front was the Penguin's symbol, but that wasn't what unnerved him. What made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end was the name emblazoned on the back…Backstrom.

"We let you keep your number…19," said Malkin, again shooting Backstrom a sad and guilty look, "I thought it'd make you feel a little more comfortable…one less thing that has to change."

Backstrom shot him a thankful look and nodded, "Yeah…yeah I like that. Thanks." Despite the horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, seeing his number on the back of the jersey somehow comforted him a little. Malkin was right…at least one thing didn't have to change.

"So we'll see you next week," said Crosby as he stood and began to usher Backstrom to the door, "And the next time I see you…I want to see you wearing that jersey…"

…

**Thanks again for the reviews! I'm trying to write as much as possible before I have to take that week or so break. Please continue reviewing! **


	9. Secrets

**I know this update is a bit shorter than the others but I wanted to throw one more out there before I leave for the next week or so. Please review! I love getting feedback! : )**

The sound of a loud knock at the door woke Backstrom up from his mid-day nap. It had been three days since he had met with Crosby and received the news that he would be joining the Penguins in a week. Now he had only four more days as a Capital. He sighed he slowly climbed out of bed and walked over to the door. As soon as he opened it, Mike Green pushed his way in.

"Mike?" exclaimed Nicklas in surprise, "What…what are you doing here?"

Mike shot his friend an icy glare as he began to search Nicklas' apartment, "Trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you," he snarled as he starting searching the living room area.

"What? You can't just barge in here like you own the place!" shouted Nicklas, becoming more and more irritated as Mike made his way to Nicklas' bedroom.

"Until I figure out what's going on I'll do whatever I want," snapped Mike in reply as he continued his search.

"I don't know what you're talking about," sneered Backstrom as he watched Mike look under his bed.

"No that's just it," said Mike as he shot Backstrom another cold glare, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. I know you do. You know that something has changed you…something's messed you up for the past few months."

"And you think whatever the hell it is you'll find it in my apartment?" argued Backstrom, becoming increasingly anxious and frustrated.

"Maybe," shrugged Mike as he moved to the closet, "Are you on drugs? Alcohol? Doing something illegal? Laundering money?"

"No, Mike, now come on I…"

Nicklas Backstrom felt his heart skip a beat as a horrified and shocked look passed over Mike Green's face. A cold feeling of dread filled Backstrom as he realized what Mike had found. Mike slowly pulled out a black jersey with the Penguin's symbol on the front. He held it up and gave Backstrom a confused look. As Mike turned the jersey around, Backstrom saw what looked like pain and fury cross his friend's face.

"Nicky…Nicky what…what is this?" he stammered as he held the jersey up in the air, "Don't…please don't tell me this is what I think it is?"

Nicklas did not know what to say. He ran his hands through his blonde hair and looked away.

"How…how long have you known?"

"Known what?" asked Backstrom as the queasy feeling in his stomach started up again.

"Known you were traded to them? Did your agent tell you not to say anything?"

Backstrom shook his head miserably, "No…I've known for a long time. My agent doesn't have a clue. I…I made the decision to join the Penguins. I cut a deal with Crosby."

Mike Green looked like someone had just punched him in the gut, "You made a deal with _them_? With…with _him_?" he asked in absolute disbelief, "Nicky…why? How…how could you do this? How could you do this to your team…to your _friends_? And what kind of deal do you make with Sidney Crosby that gets you on his team?"

Backstrom shook his head as he snatched the jersey out of Mike's hands, "Don't worry about it," he snapped, suddenly growing angry, "What's done is done…I'll be a Penguin in a few days."

"A few _days_?" asked Mike, almost in a whisper, "That soon? Oh Nicky," Mike shook his head back and forth, looking utterly distraught. The sight broke Nicklas' heart and part of him wished desperately that he could go back and change what had been done.

"First we lose Chris…and now you've gone and stabbed us all in the back," muttered Mike as he shot his friend a sad and confused look, "What'd you do to get the position Nicky? What price did it take? It had to be a hell of a big price knowing Crosby…and the way you've been acting. What…what'd you do?"

"You don't want to know," muttered Backstrom as he tossed the jersey onto his bed, "Trust me…you don't want to know."

Mike sneered as he made his way out of the bedroom, "Fine…whatever. I just hope you're happy…I hope that this is truly what you've wanted and I hope that whatever you did to get it was worth it…because you just lost a very good friend."

Nicklas winced as Mike slammed the door shut after he left the apartment. The queasy feeling in his stomach was becoming too much to bear. He made a bee-line for the bathroom and got rid of whatever he had eaten for lunch. He had a feeling he'd be skipping dinner tonight too. As he sat next to the toilet in his bathroom he wondered if Mike would tell the rest of the team what he had learned. He probably would…it was big news. Practice would be hell tomorrow that was for sure. Nicklas felt queasy all over again at the thought of having to face his teammates at practice tomorrow. The sooner this whole thing was over…the better.

…

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	10. Traded

**So I deleted the last chapter because it didn't flow with the story the way I wanted it to…here is the new version : ) A new player enters the scene here and I think you will all recognize him! He's become one of my favorites on the Capitals team. Please review and as always: ROCK THE RED!**

The next morning Nicklas Backstrom slid into the locker room as quietly as he could, attempting to go unnoticed. He glanced around anxiously, trying to gauge the mood of his teammates. He wasn't sure whether or not Mike had told them about what he had discovered in his closet the day before and he definitely didn't want to be surrounded by infuriated and betrayed hockey players.

Nicklas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Ovechkin was in the middle of what looked like a hazing. He was surrounded by his teammates who all had cans of shaving cream and silly string. Alex laughed loudly as he was doused by both and pretended to fight his teammates off. Obviously Mike had decided to keep his observations to himself…for now.

Just then Mike Green pulled himself out of the rowdy crowd, shaking silly string out of his hair as he walked to his locker. He glanced over and made eye contact with Nicklas. They both froze for a minute, Mike glaring coldly and Nicklas' eyes gleaming with fear and uncertainty. After a long moment of silence, Nicklas cleared his throat and slowly approached his old friend.

"So, um….are you going to tell them?" he whispered, casting an anxious glance over his shoulder.

"Tell them what?" snapped Mike in a low, threatening tone, "That you've betrayed us all? That' you've stabbed every single one of us in the back, especially our new captain?"

Nicklas looked away as the queasy feeling filled his stomach once again, "Look Mike I know, okay? I get it…you hate me whatever. I just…can you keep this quiet till Boudreau gets word of the trade? I'd rather this go down in a professional manner if at all possible."

"Give me one damn good reason why I should do you any favors," snarled Mike as he pushed Backstrom against the lockers, "One damn good reason!"

The group of players that were "attacking" Ovechkin on the other side of the locker room froze when they heard Mike's infuriated snarl and saw him shove Backstrom into the lockers.

"Not again," muttered Eric Fehr as he and Chimera walked over to break them up.

"Alright boys, cool off," said Chimera as he stood between the two feuding players, "Come on now Greenie cool down."

Eric Fehr helped Backstrom move away from the lockers and directed him to the other side of the locker room, away from a seething Mike Green.

"You two gotta get a handle on this," muttered Chimera to Green, "Seriously…I don't know what's going on but you guys have to work this out."

Green sneered at that, "Oh trust me…this is way passed the point of being able to 'work things out.'"

"Everyone take a seat!" boomed Coach Boudreau as he walked into the locker room. He frowned as his sharp eyes took in the scene in front of him. It was obvious that there had been yet another confrontation in the locker room. He muttered something under his breath before he continued, "Alright guys settle down and sit down! I have an announcement to make before practice and it might be a little hard to hear."

Nicklas felt his heart skip a beat at that. He knew instantly what this announcement would be. His throat tightened as he glanced around at his fellow teammates and friends. For a brief moment he regretted what he had done but then he thought about how much he would shine on the Penguins team. He would no longer be in Ovechkin's shadow but would rather be noted as one of the best players in the NHL playing alongside Crosby and Malkin. That thought alone made him straighten up a little in his seat and gave him enough courage to prepare for what was about to happen.

"As you know a few days ago Chris Clark was traded," began Boudreau as he gazed across the locker room, "Well I'm sad to say that we've had another trade go down and this one is just as unexpected as Clark's was…but I suppose that's how the business goes. It's all business, nothing personal."

Mike Green sneered loudly at that and shot Backstrom a disgusted look, "Yeah right."

"Look, I know it's not easy," said Boudreau, giving Green a warning look, "But it is what it is…Nicklas Backstrom had been traded to the Penguins."

"What?" exclaimed Jurcina, "Penguins? What the hell?"

"There has to be a mistake," said Semin, looking shell-shocked, "There's no way they'd want one of our players."

Ovechkin was too stunned to speak. He exchanged a look with Mike and was surprised to see fury in his best friend's eyes. Mike turned to cast an icy glare in Nicklas' direction and shook his head in disgust. He turned back to Ovechkin and mouthed that he would explain later. Ovechkin nodded, still looking confused about the whole situation.

"Alright settle down," said Boudreau, quieting his shocked and outraged team, "Backstrom will skate during practice today but today is his last day with us. We found out about the trade last night so we flew in a player from the Hershey Bears to replace Backstrom. His name is Mathieu Perreault and he'll be skating during practice today too so be sure to make him feel welcome and show him the ropes. Alright lace up your skates and hit the ice."

The shocked and disbelieving team silently geared up for practice and headed out to the rink. Nicklas took his time putting on his pads and lacing up his skates. He was trying desperately to avoid the hurt and upset gazes of his teammates…especially the infuriated, accusing glare of Mike Green.

"Dude I'm gonna miss you out there Nicky," muttered Dave Steckel as he laced up his skates and stood to leave the locker room, "You're a hell of a player...you'll be missed."

Backstrom winced a little at that as he followed Steckel out onto the rink. Once they figured out exactly why he left and why he had been traded they wouldn't be saying things like that anymore. Nicklas took a deep breath and stepped into the Capitals training rink for the last time…

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	11. Leaving

**Decided to write another chapter : ) Enjoy!**

Mike Green was struggling to keep his anger on a low and even keel. He skated at the opposite end of the practice rink than Backstrom and worked on his slap shots. He hit each puck as hard as he could in a vain attempt to release some if his pent-up anger. The rest of the team gave him his space. Although no one really knew what was going on they did know that Mike was legitimately pissed off and that it was probably best to steer clear of him for awhile.

Nicklas skated on the opposite side of the rink, casting anxious glances over at Green once in awhile, making sure to stay clear of him. Ovechkin kept himself busy talking to his team and working with Beagle, Andrew Gordon, and some of the other younger players on their puck handling skills. Semin was skating around with the new guy, Mathieu Perreault, and showing him the ropes. Steckel smirked a little as he watched them pass a puck back and forth. He skated over to Eric Fehr and muttered in his ear.

"Is it just me or does the new kid look a lot like Ovechkin?"

Eric Fehr glanced over at Perreault and then over to Ovechkin. He laughed and nodded in agreement, "Yeah like a younger, smaller version of Alex…I can see the resemblance. Hell he even moves just like him!"

Mathieu Perreault skated past the two Capitals players, a big excited grin plastered on his face as he drove toward the net. He passed the puck to Semin who passed it quickly back to him at the last second. Perreault delivered a blinding slapshot that sailed right past Varlamov's catching glove. The youngster raised his stick in the air as if he had just scored in a real game and skated back to Semin. Varlamov shook his head in bewilderment as he tried to regain his composure.

Eric Fehr whistled long and low and gave Steckel an impressed look, "And he's damn good too."

"We need a kid like him on the team right about now," agreed Steckel, "Young, excited, energetic and with skill…we're losing a lot by losing Clark and Backstrom in less than a week."

Fehr sighed, "Yeah…it's gonna be an adjustment that's for sure. That kid's gonna help a lot with the adjustment though. I'm impressed."

After about three hours of training, Boudreau blew the whistle and called his boys off the ice. The players were in better spirits after their morning skate and after seeing the level of skill that the new kid had to offer. They all filed into the locker room to change and shower before heading their separate ways.

Backstrom steered clear of most of his teammates and made a bee-line for his locker. He took off his jersey, pads and skates and packed them away. He held his jersey out in front of him for a long moment, studying it, before he folded it and packed it into his bag. He sighed as he cleared out his locker, his throat constricting with emotion as he took down pictures of himself, Ovechkin, Green and Semin back in their rookie seasons. They were all so young and carefree, happy to be on an NHL team and free of drama or hardship. In that moment Backstrom would have given anything to go back to that time.

"Those were good times."

Backstrom jumped in surprise and whirled around. Alex Semin was looking over his shoulder at the pictures that Nicklas had in his hands.

"Um, oh yeah…yeah they were," muttered Nicklas as he pulled a couple more out of his locker.

"We're gonna miss you," said Semin as he clapped his old friend on the shoulder, "I know things have been a little…off lately, but just know that we're all gonna miss you."

Nicklas had to look away. He fought back the emotion that threatened to cloud his gaze as he nodded, "Yeah, yeah…I'll miss you guys too."

Semin gave his friend a quick hug before he turned to leave the locker room. Backstrom sighed sadly as he leaned against his locker. Most of the guys had already left…they weren't much for goodbyes. Green and Ovechkin hung back, stalling by their lockers. Ovechkin glanced over at Nicklas and smiled sadly as he walked over.

"I'll miss you buddy," he muttered as he hugged Nicklas.

"Yeah…I'll miss you too," choked out Nicklas as he pulled away.

Nicklas glanced over Ovechkin's shoulder at Mike Green. Mike was sitting on the bench in front of his locker, fiddling with his skates. Alex smirked a little in amusement. Mike liked holding grudges sometimes…he was one of the more stubborn players on their team.

"I'll leave you two alone," he murmured quietly to Backstrom.

Nicklas' eyes grew round with panic, "Uh…I don't know if that's such a good idea Alex…"

"Nah he won't kill you, don't worry," assured Alex with a smirk, "Just say your goodbyes and walk out civilly…it'll be okay."

As Alex Ovechkin turned and walked out of the locker room, Nicklas glanced fearfully over at Mike Green. He wished that Alex was right but he had no clue what Mike knew and why Mike hated him now.

"I…I'm heading out," stammered Backstrom, "I, uh, I know you're not too fond of me anymore and its okay I get it…I'm sorry, Mike."

Backstrom picked up his bags and made a bee-line for the door. Mike stood up and grabbed Nicklas' arm, stopping him in his tracks. Nicklas' heart pounded in fear as he readied himself for a punch to the face or a knee to the stomach. He was surprised when he finally pried his eyes open to see Mike's sad, clear eyes gazing at him.

"I just hope you know what you're doing Nicky," said Mike quietly, "Watch your back…I don't trust those Penguins as far as I can throw them."

"Well you could probably throw them pretty far," said Nicklas with a slight smirk as he jokingly felt his friend's rather large arm-muscles.

Mike rolled his eyes but couldn't help but laugh a little at that, "Yeah, yeah…smart ass."

Nicklas laughed and gave Mike a quick hug, "Thanks Mike…I'll um…I'll see you around."

Mike's smile evaporated at that, "Yeah…I guess I'll see you in a couple weeks when we play you guys."

Nicklas just nodded and left the locker room. His eyes were blurry with emotion and his throat felt like it was closing in on him. As he walked out of the Kettler Iceplex he turned around to look at the building. Its large glass front shone brightly in the early morning light and the Capitals emblem seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. His heart stuttered a bit as he tore his gaze away and climbed into his Corvette. He turned the key and the engine roared to life. Nicklas revved the engine and flew out of the parking garage without looking back…

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	12. Ambition

**So I'm in one of those writing moods today lol so here's another chapter! **

**Also, I haven't posted a disclaimer for this story in awhile so here it is: **

**Disclaimer: This story is based off of the rivalry between the Pens and the Caps; however it in no way reflects how the players are in real life. This is FICTION therefore these events did NOT occur. Some of the players' personalities have been altered to fit the storyline so once again this does not reflect how the players are as people in real life. Just FYI : )**

**Also: I will have a poll on my profile page here soon…please check it out! I love feedback!**

_One Week Later…_

Mike Green skated absent-mindedly around the Capitals Kettler Iceplex early that Saturday morning. The rest of the team was gearing up in the locker room and slowly filtering out onto the ice for the morning practice. Green had arrived early to skate around and think through some things on his own. He was having a hard time dealing with the information he knew about Backstrom. Although the rest of the team, including their coach, believed that what had happened was merely a trade conducted by the players' agents, Mike knew the truth behind Backstrom's departure from the Capitals.

"What's up buddy?" asked Alex Ovechkin as he skated over to his friend, "You haven't been yourself lately…still thinking about Nicky?"

Green grimaced at the sound of Nicklas' pet-name that his close friends had given him, "Yeah…something like that."

Alex frowned, "You never did tell me what you were gonna tell me that day in the locker room…the day when Nicklas left? Is whatever that's about what's bothering you?"

Mike smirked a little. Alex could read him like an open book.

"Yeah," he muttered as he shot a puck at the empty net and frowned when it went wide.

"So, what is it?" pressed Alex, "Most of the guys are still suiting up in the locker room…so now would be a good time to tell me before I have to lead practice."

Mike took a deep breath, "Remember when I told you I was gonna go to Nick's place and confront him about how he was acting?"

Ovechkin nodded, frowning a little as he braced himself for whatever it was Green was going to tell him.

"Well…I went. I talked to him for a bit and asked him if he was on drugs or something and if that was messing him up. He said he wasn't but I didn't believe him…I knew something was altering his behavior so…I looked through his closet to see if I could find anything."

"And you did?" asked Alex, his eyes round with surprise, "What? What'd you find? Drugs?"

Mike shook his head, "Hell I wish that was all I had found," he muttered as he shot another puck at the net, "No…I found a Penguins jersey…with his name and number on the back."

Alex took a step back in surprise, "What? That doesn't make sense...maybe he'd known he was getting traded?"

"Oh he knew alright," sneered Mike, "He said he cut a deal with Crosby to get him on the Pens team."

Alex's mouth flew open in shock. Nicklas had cut a deal with Sidney Crosby? His long time rival and deep-seeded enemy? It just didn't make sense!

"What? Why…why would he do that?" breathed Alex, still in shock.

Mike shrugged, "Beats me…but he was pretty upset that I figured that out. He looked like he was going to pass out so whatever the hell he did must have been a big deal. All I know is that one of our closest friends just stabbed us in the back and we don't even know the half of it yet I have a feeling."

Alex shook his head slowly, trying to make sense of what Mike was saying, "What do you think the deal was?"

Mike shrugged again, "No clue…he didn't let on. He kept that carefully guarded so I'm sure it's bad."

"Anything having to do with Crosby is bad," sneered Alex as he glanced over his shoulder and watched his team skate out onto the rink, "I gotta get practice started...thanks for telling me, Mike."

Mike just nodded and watched Alex skate off, calling out orders to the team to start warm-ups. Mike sighed as he skated over to join them. He silently prayed that whatever Nicklas was doing that he wasn't getting himself into any more trouble…or doing anything to hurt his friends…

…

"You're sure this is how they do it?" questioned Sidney Crosby for the third time.

Nicklas stifled a sigh of annoyance and rolled his eyes, "For the third time, yes Sid. That's how they do line changes."

"Interesting," muttered Malkin who was standing behind Crosby, studying a chart that Backstrom had drawn up for them, "That explains why they jump on the puck so quickly during a power play."

Backstrom, Crosby and Malkin were sitting on the players bench of the Penguins practice arena discussing strategy while the rest of the Penguins team warmed up for their morning practice.

Crosby nodded, "Good…well then we'll get you and Nicky to move over here when their line shifts. It'll shut down their offense and give us an opportunity to steal the puck and move in for an attack. Then we'll use that offensive move you showed us earlier Nicky…that should seal the deal on that play."

"You're proving to be useful after all," joked Malkin as he ruffled Nick Backstrom's blonde hair.

Nicolas smirked slightly at that as he jokingly shoved Malkin's hand away from him. He felt a small pang of regret as he realized that he was once again stabbing his friends in the back by helping the Penguins. Guilt swam in his stomach and he fought the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

Crosby noted the look on Backstrom's face. He exchanged a knowing look with Malkin and the young forward nodded before he turned and disappeared into the locker room.

"I think now is a good time to show you a little modification we made to your jersey," said Crosby, flashing his trademark smile.

Backstrom raised an eyebrow, "Modification?"

Malkin and Crosby exchanged another knowing look as Malkin returned and held up Backstrom's jersey for him to see. Instantly Backstrom's face brightened with excitement.

"Welcome aboard, Assistant Captain Backstrom," said Crosby as Malkin handed Backstrom his modified jersey, "You're on the front lines now!"

Backstrom's eyes shone with wonder as he gazed at the "A" emblazoned on his dark black jersey. He was officially in the upper echelon of the Penguins hockey team. His dreams were literally coming true before his very eyes. Instantly the guilt and nausea evaporated. All that Backstrom could think about was how good he'd look in his new jersey and how it would feel to see his name on the leader boards. He was going to give the rest of the hockey world a run for its money…

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	13. Faceoff

**I had an idea come to mind so I just had to write it all down before I forgot : )**

**Enjoy!**

_One Week Later…_

"This is just gonna be weird," muttered Ovechkin as he laced up his skates, "We're playing against Nicky…it just feels so wrong."

Mike sneered, "Yeah well this is what he wanted so it's what he's gonna get…he stabbed us in the back and made a deal with the devil so he can reap what he's sowed as far as I'm concerned."

Ovechkin frowned at that, "Mike…he was our friend."

"Right…that's why he betrayed us," said Mike, his voice tinged with anger but the hurt gleaming in his eyes countered his angry comments. He was just as upset and distraught by the situation as Alex was; he was just expressing his feelings via anger rather than sadness.

"Come on boys," said Brooks Laich, "Let's do this…shake it off it's just another game. It's all business nothing personal."

"Wish that was true," muttered Green as he and Ovechkin filed out onto the ice to warm up before the game.

The crowd roared excitedly as the Capitals skated out onto their home ice. The "sea of red" as the stands were affectionately called, stood as one and cheered their team on as they threw a few pucks to the empty net for practice. Varlamov finished up some stretches before he headed over to the net and practiced his goalie skills with some of the Capitals forwards while the other players worked on puck handling and passing skills.

Mike Green skated along the center ice line and gazed over at the Penguins team. They were all skating around their side of the rink, warming up their muscles and stretching out their limbs. Mike felt a pang of sickness in his gut when he saw Backstrom. Nicklas was skating with Malkin, laughing like they were old friends, wearing a Penguins jersey with his name and his old Capitals number. But that wasn't what made Mike so sick to his stomach…it was the letter "A" emblazoned on the front of the jersey that made Mike stop dead in his tracks. The Penguins had made Backstrom their captain in less than four weeks.

"What's wrong?" muttered Ovechkin as he skated over to his distraught-looking friend.

"Nick…Nick's an assistant captain," muttered Green in disbelief, "They made him a damn assistant captain…what the hell is Nicky doing?"

Backstrom turned sharply and skated to the net, tossing in a puck with a powerful slapshot before he returned to skating around his half of the rink. He glanced over at the Capitals side of the rink and froze when he made eye-contact with Mike Green and Alex Ovechkin. They both had looks of shock and horror on their faces. His brow furrowed in confusion as he wondered what it was that had bothered them so much. Then he remembered…the "A"…they hadn't heard the news yet. No wonder they looked so surprised.

Backstrom swallowed down the emotion that threatened to clog his throat when he saw the look of betrayal and deep-seeded hurt in his old friends' eyes. Mike shot him an accusing glare before he turned sharply and skated away from center ice. Ovechkin followed Mike, casting one last baleful glance over his shoulder.

"Shake it off," muttered Sidney Crosby as he skated over to Backstrom, "Don't let them get to you, Nicky. This is your moment to shine…remember that. Playoffs start next week. We can't let them affect you this badly. We have to face them for at least four games next week so keep your chin up, alright?"

Backstrom nodded and put on a brave, confident face, "Yeah no worries…they won't get to me."

"Good," said Crosby, flashing a perfect smile before he turned and skated toward the net, sending a puck top shelf with a simple flick of his wrist. Crosby smiled in satisfaction as he and Malkin exchanged a fist-bump.

Backstrom forced himself to move away from the center ice line and focus on warming up before the game. He had to get his mind in the game, not on his old teammates…

…

Backstrom skated to center ice, his eyes locked on the new kid the Capitals had called up from Hershey to replace him, Mathieu Perreault. The young kid's eyes gleamed with excitement as he got into position for the puck drop. He shot a steely look at Backstrom. His focused and confident gaze unsettled Nicklas a little but he forced himself to remain confident. He was an assistant captain for the Pittsburgh Penguins after all…some rookie in his first NHL game was of no concern to him.

The puck dropped and Perreault won the draw. Nicklas didn't even have time to curse himself for messing up the faceoff. The kid was already on top of him, plowing through the front lines of the Penguins offense and racing toward their net. The Penguins scrambled, shocked by the sudden and forceful attack by the young rookie. Ovechkin let out a cry, alerting the kid to the fact that he was on his flank. Perreault made a drop pass to Ovechkin and skated nimbly between Malkin and another defenseman. He made his way toward the front of the net and prepared for Ovechkin's pass. Ovechkin made a quick wrist-er and the puck sailed through the air right to Perreault's stick. A split second later, with a quick flick of his wrist, the rookie scored the first goal of the game.

Sidney Crosby cursed loudly as the fans leapt to their feet and cheered. In less than twenty seconds the Capitals had made the first move. Backstrom shot Crosby an apologetic and overwhelmed glance. Crosby skated over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let it go…its one goal, alright? We've got a lot more time left on the clock…shake it off and let's do this!"

Backstrom nodded and made his way to center ice. The kid was once again lined up for the faceoff but this time…Nicklas won.

…

It was nearing the end of the second period and the score was three to one in favor of the Capitals. Perreault had scored two of the three goals and Ovechkin had snatched the third early in the second period. Crosby had scored the only goal for the Pens at the end of the first period. The Penguins were absolutely distraught and confused as to how the rookie was able to barrel through their defense on nearly every play. Their goalie Fleury was the only reason they weren't losing by a lot more than two points.

"What's the game plan?" asked Malkin as he glanced over at their Coach in the locker room in-between the second and third period, "What do we do about the kid?"

Crosby had an eerie gleam in his eye as he glanced up and looked over at Backstrom. Nicklas shifted uneasily on the bench, wondering why Crosby was looking him over so intently.

"I have a suggestion," he said quietly.

"Well?" pressed their coach, "What is it?"

"I say we take the rookie out of the game," suggested Crosby, his eyes gleaming thoughtfully.

"You mean…like…_hurt_ him enough to get him out?" asked Malkin, cringing a little at the thought.

"You gotta do what you gotta do to win," answered Crosby, "We have to face these guys for at least four games in a row next week in the first round of the playoffs…might as well take care of the kid now before we have to deal with him then."

The coach nodded slowly, "Fine…just keep this quiet alright? Who do you suggest should do this…deed?"

Crosby smirked as he cast his eerie gaze over Backstrom once again, "The new guy…Nicky. Go prove to us and to them where your loyalties lie. It'd send a pretty clear signal to your buddies over there who don't seem able to get off of your back about your…transition to our team."

Nicklas swallowed back the bile that rose up in his throat. Sidney Crosby was asking him to hurt the new Capitals forward, Mathieu Perreault. An image of the excited, young, Ovechkin-looking kid came into Backstrom's mind…he was carefree and happy, just like he and his old teammates had been once upon a time…and Crosby was asking him to destroy all of that.

"Can you handle it?" pressed Crosby, "Or should I be looking for a new assistant captain?"

Backstrom's head snapped up at that. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before he replied, "Fine…I'll do it."

An almost evil grin spread across Crosby's face as he gazed at Nicklas, "Good…I'm glad to hear it. Now let's go take care of this little…issue, shall we?"

…

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	14. Regret

**Sort of a shorter chapter but there's a lot of action and a pivotal event that will change the rest of the story : ) Enjoy!**

The teams filed out onto the ice for the beginning of the last period of the game. Backstrom felt queasy and his hands shook as they gripped his hockey stick. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Crosby who gave him an encouraging smile and nodded to him. Backstrom nodded back in silent agreement and steeled himself for what he was about to do. His heart hammered in his chest as he lined up for the faceoff. His throat clenched when he saw that Mathieu Perreault was chosen from the Capitals team for the faceoff. The young kid flashed Backstrom a confident smile before he prepared for the puck drop.

The puck hit the ice and Backstrom allowed Perreault to take the puck. The kid moved fast and began to try and barge his way through the Penguins offensive line. Backstrom had anticipated this, as did Crosby. Sidney Crosby moved quickly and forced Perreault to the side of the rink. The kid looked frustrated as he fought to move around the light-footed Penguins captain. Backstrom saw his window of opportunity opening up in front of him and moved quickly to where the young rookie was struggling. He was about three feet away from the boards…the perfect position for Backstrom to attack.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Nicklas made his move. He rushed across the rink toward the young Capitals forward and slammed into him. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact, sending the rookie flying into the boards. The kid hit hard and then fell to the ice, clutching his face and curling up in pain. A piece of his face shield flew across the ice, the edges jagged and broken. Backstrom moved away quickly as the referee blew the whistle and stopped the play. Ovechkin and Green rushed over to the injured rookie and a couple of the Capitals medical team jumped up from the bench and rushed across the ice.

"Nicely done," muttered Crosby into Backstrom's ear as he observed the blood that was pouring out of Perreault's face, "Just like we wanted."

Backstrom felt like he was going to throw up. He stared, wide-eyed at the young rookie, crumpled on the ice with a pool of blood forming around his face. He hadn't meant to hurt him quite that badly. He watched as the medical team helped Perreault skate off of the ice to receive treatment and to determine how badly he was hurt. He shook his head in bewilderment. The Penguins were quietly and carefully congratulating each other on the successful attack while the Capitals looked shell-shocked and horrified by what they had just seen.

Backstrom winced a little at the shocked and questioning looks from his old teammates. Ovechkin looked over at him, frowning sadly as he skated over to the referee to discuss what the punishment would be for Backstrom's uncalled-for attack. Mike Green helped the crew scrape the blood off of the ice, glaring at Backstrom with undisguised fury. Crosby skated over to Ovechkin and the referee and the three spoke in hushed tones about the attack and debated over the punishment.

Backstrom looked on warily, skating as far away from the Capitals players as he could. The confused looks had turned into accusing and infuriated glares. Backstrom turned his head away from the sight, but just as he looked away he felt someone slam into him from behind. He fell to the ice and whirled around, quickly standing up to face whoever was attacking him.

"What the hell have you done!" roared Mike Green, his eyes flashing with anger as he glared at his old friend, "You asshole!"

"Mike," said Backstrom with a warning note in his voice, "Back off okay? Just…back off."

"Don't you dare tell me what to do! Not after what you just did to Mathieu! You did that on purpose! There's no way in hell that was an accident and you and I both know that!"

Mike shoved Backstrom against the boards, his arm pressing up against Nicklas' neck. Nicklas choked out a cry of surprise and tried to push Mike away from him but Mike was much stronger than him. He had a momentary flashback to their playful fight in the Capitals Kettler Iceplex car garage…Mike had held him down with his strong arms and Backstrom had been completely helpless. He had to cry out to Ovechkin then to help him.

"Mike!" shouted Matt Bradley as he skated over and tried to pry Mike off of Backstrom, "Dude its not worth this…let him go!"

"Let go!" roared an infuriated Evengi Malkin as he shoved Matt Bradley away and then yanked Mike Green off of Nicklas Backstrom.

Mike stumbled and fell to the ice and Malkin made quick work of climbing on top of him and pummeling him with his fists.

"Malkin stop!" shouted Backstrom as he rubbed his sore neck, "Stop!"

Backstrom tried to pull Malkin away but Malkin elbowed him aside and continued his attack on Green. Bradley and Fehr jumped into the fray, hauling Malkin away from Mike long enough for Mike to regain his footing. By now the refs had finally decided to step in and stop the fray from continuing.

Backstrom leaned against the boards breathing heavily as he waited to hear the refs announcement of the penalties that were sure to ensue from all the fighting behind the net.

"Nicklas Backstrom, four minutes for boarding, Mike Green two minutes for roughing, Evengi Malkin two minutes for roughing," announced the referee in a clear, loud voice.

Instantly the crowd reacted with fury at the calls. They wanted Backstrom out of the game. The Capitals players leapt up from the bench in a rage, absolutely infuriated by how easy they were letting Backstrom off the hook after what he had done to Perreault. Backstrom made a bee-line for the penalty box, trying desperately to avoid making eye contact with any of the Capitals players. He breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down, Malkin squeezing in next to him and patting him on the back.

"Well done newbie," he said with a smirk, "Got a little hairy there but you did well. Good work."

Backstrom wished the kind words meant something, but in that moment all he wanted to do was go back in time. He wanted to reverse what he had done to Mathieu Perreault…he wanted to go back before he had made the deal with Crosby…the deal that meant he would stab everyone he ever cared for in the back…he wanted to go back to when he was a young rookie on the Capitals team, fooling around with his best friends: Ovechkin, Green and Semin…back to before he ever met Sidney Crosby…back to when things still made sense.

Overcome with regret and guilt Backstrom put his head in his hands and took a deep, shaky breath. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

…

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	15. Attrition

**Thank you to everyone who is reading! Please review if you could…anonymous reviews are welcome as well! I love feedback! : ) **

The Penguins filed back into the locker room at the end of the third period. They were whooping and hollering and high-fiving one another on a come-from-behind victory against the Capitals. They had managed to score three goals and pull ahead of the Capitals for a four to three victory.

While the rest of the team cheered and congratulated one another, Backstrom stumbled over to the bench near the lockers. He clutched his stomach and winced at the all-too-familiar pain. The guilt was overwhelming and he wasn't sure he could handle much more after what he had done tonight.

Crosby ran over and gave Backstrom a hug and a hearty clap on the back; "Well done my friend!" he shouted loudly, "Well done!"

Backstrom sneered and shook his head. What he had done didn't deserve any sort of accolade. Instead he deserved to be suspended for the next several games…maybe even from the NHL…that's how wretched he felt. Suddenly a flash of anger overwhelmed him. Crosby's manipulative and conniving ways had caused all of this. Granted he was at fault for falling for the lies…the lies of fame and fortune, of standing out from the crowd for once in his life…but Crosby had started it all. Had the young Penguins captain not been so desperate to seek revenge against Ovechkin, none of this would have ever happened. In that moment, something snapped inside Nicklas Backstrom.

Nicklas stood up slowly and glowered at Sidney Crosby. His hazel eyes flashed with cold anger and his jaw clenched with barely suppressed rage as he advanced on Crosby.

Sidney Crosby took a step back, his eyes flashing with surprise at Backstrom's sudden change of demeanor. The normally quiet, calm and easily-manipulated young Capitals forward had completely transformed in a matter of seconds.

"Whoa," said Crosby as he put up his hands in surrender, "Nicky, what's going on, man? I thought we were cool? Remember the deal…"

"Shut…up," said Backstrom through clenched teeth, "Shut the hell up! And don't you _dare_ call me your 'friend' you backstabbing, manipulative bastard. You're no friend of mine…you asshole after all you've done...after what I just did tonight…I'm done. I'm done with you, with our deal, with everything. You can go screw yourself. I'm talking to my agent tonight…I'm going back to the Capitals."

Sidney Crosby laughed openly at that, "Right, as if they would take you back after what you've done. Sure your agent might be able to cut a deal but will your old friends take you in after tonight? Face it Nicky…I'm all youhave in the world now. I _own_ you! Your whole career, the fame, the money…it all lies with me and my team. When we win the Stanley…"

"Trust me _Sid_," sneered Backstrom as he got in Crosby's face, "I'll make sure that never happens."

And with those parting words Backstrom grabbed his gear and made a bee-line for the exit. Malkin watched, his eyes glittering with admiration rather than accusation. The rest of the team was infuriated by Backstrom's betrayal and snarled their anger to one another. Crosby through a puck across the locker room, smashing the glass window of the door that Backstrom had just walked out of. Malkin couldn't suppress a small smile of amusement at his friend's anger management issue. Despite the fact that Backstrom would be a big loss to his team, Malkin was partially glad he had left. He had never really agreed to Crosby's terms…he preferred to fight the Capitals in a fair game, not one where you cheated and hurt each others' players.

Crosby let out a roar of anger and stormed out of the locker room. As far as he was concerned, Backstrom could go jump off of a cliff. He would make sure that Nicklas wouldn't make it through the playoffs. He'd make damn sure of that. If he thought what happened to Perrault was bad, just wait until he saw what Crosby had in store for him…

…

"What!" exclaimed Mike Green in shock, "What the hell do you mean he's _back_? That traitor nearly killed Mathieu! What the hell?"

"Look, Green," said Coach Boudreau with a stern glare at his number one defenseman, "I know it's a touchy situation, but here's the deal: Backstrom went to his agent last night literally begging to get off of the Penguins and return to his place here with us. His agent told me that he never wanted to do what he did last night and that he felt horrible about it. Apparently there was a fight between him and Crosby in the locker room after the game that got real ugly and Backstrom walked out on them. On top of that we need Backstrom now that Perreault is down for the count. So despite the situation and what's happened I'm gonna need you guys to just suck it up and deal with it. Playoffs start a week from yesterday so we don't have time for drama and fights alright?"

Ovechkin exchanged a disbelieving look with Mike Green. Something big must have gone down last night between Nicklas and Sidney. Whatever the hell it was it was bad enough to cause Nicklas to walk out on a dream job.

Boudreau left the locker room just as Nicklas Backstrom hesitantly stepped inside. The Capitals players shifted uneasily, unsure as to how to react to Nicklas' return.

Nicklas cleared his throat before he broke the awkward silence, "I know you guys probably all hate me for what I did…and yes I did do it on purpose. I…I was told by Crosby to take Perreault out so that we, I mean, _they_ wouldn't have to deal with him during the playoffs. It was wrong and I never meant for him to get as hurt as he did. I would give anything if I could go back and change what I've done. I regret ever talking to Crosby…I regret ever leaving this team, but most of all I regret hurting my best friends."

Backstrom cast a baleful glance over toward Ovechkin, Green and Semin. Ovechkin took a deep breath and sighed, Semin gave Backstrom a sad, sympathetic smile while Green looked down at his hands. Backstrom glanced away and sighed quietly. It was going to take quite a while to earn his friends' trust again.

"So," he said, continuing, "In short…I'm sorry, very, very, very sorry."

After a long moment of silence, Ovechkin stood up to speak, "Nicky…you're gonna have to prove your loyalty to us, you know that right?"

Backstrom nodded, "Yeah, yeah of course…I will I promise."

Ovechkin nodded slowly, "Okay…well then I guess we should all gear up and head out for practice. We have a lot of work to do before playoffs next week."

The team moved quickly to suit up for practice. Matt Bradley gave Backstrom a quick hug before they headed out onto the ice.

"Nice to have you back," he said, tapping Backstrom on the head and giving him a wink, "You've been gone up there a lot longer than you've been gone physically you know."

Nicklas smirked a little, "Yeah, yeah I have…it's nice to be back," he said as he glanced up and saw Mike give him a doubtful glance before hitting the ice. Backstrom sighed, "I just hope they can forgive me for what I've done."

Bradley smiled and gave Nicklas a knowing smile. The veteran clapped Backstrom on the shoulder as he spoke, "Don't worry they will…they're your best friends aren't they? They'll come around…best friends always do."

Backstrom smiled slightly. Feeling a little better after Bradley's pep-talk he headed out onto the ice to join his team…his real team…silently praying that Matt Bradley was right and that his friends would one day accept him again. Until then he had to focus on the playoffs. Round one was against the Penguins and it was going to be brutal…

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	16. Amnesty

**Here's another chapter : ) Enjoy! And thank you again to everyone who is reading this story!**

Early that next Saturday morning the Capitals slowly filtered into the locker room to get dressed for practice. The first game in round one of the playoffs was that evening and they were all tense and nervous.

Backstrom hung back a little over near his locker. He glanced around nervously as the team filtered into the locker room. Most of the team had gradually accepted him back into the fold over the past week, but a couple of them were still suspicious and held grudges after what he had done to Perreault. Ovechkin was a little standoffish and kept his distance and Semin just did not know how to act around him anymore. Mike Green however was by far the worst. He had yet to say one word to Backstrom since he had returned.

Nicklas winced as he remembered the last time they had exchanged words. It had been right after Backstrom had seriously injured the young Capitals rookie. Green was infuriated and had tried to attack Backstrom in retaliation. Evengi Malkin had taken most of the heat for that fight and had managed to get Green away from Backstrom before any damage could be done. Unfortunately damage had already been done…just not the kind of damage that one could see. A deep rift had formed between Backstrom and Green and Nicklas feared that nothing would ever fill it.

"Alright let's hit the ice!" announced Ovechkin as he rallied his team, "Let's do a quick warm up then work through some practice drills. Don't over-exert yourselves; we don't need any injuries before tonight."

The team nodded in agreement and headed out the door just as Mathieu Perreault burst in through the back door.

"Sorry I'm late!" he exclaimed as he hurried over and sat his bag down on a bench, "The medical guys wanted to look me over before practice…I'll be out as soon as I can I promise!"

The entire team froze with shock and surprise as they watched Perreault put on his gear. The young kid had a small breathing strip on his slightly swollen nose and the skin around his nose was slightly bruised and swollen as well. Despite the injuries, Perreault was grinning like a kid at Christmas as he put on his skates.

"Dude!" exclaimed Steckel, breaking the awkward silence, "What the hell are you doin' here kid! I thought we'd never see you again!"

Perreault's smile widened as he laughed, "Yeah well I heard that Beagle strained a muscle during practice a couple days ago so I requested to come back. Once the doctors cleared me I hopped on a plane and got here as fast as I could!"

"Good to have you back, kid," said Eric Fehr as he patted the rookie on the shoulder, "You've been missed."

Mike Green shared an anxious glance with Alex Semin and Alex Ovechkin. He moved over to whisper to them, "What the hell are we supposed to tell him about Backstrom? He doesn't know he's back on the team…he probably thinks he's still a Penguin."

Semin frowned and Ovechkin sighed wearily as he replied, "I'll handle it…I'm captain it's my job to handle it."

Green raised an eyebrow in disbelief and sneered, "Yeah…good luck with that."

"I'll take over practice if you want to deal with Backstrom and Perreault," suggested Semin, who now sported the letter "A" on his jersey since Backstrom left, "No worries."

"Thanks, Sasha," said Ovechkin, using Semin's Russian nick-name, "You guys head out, I'll take care of things back here."

"Good luck," muttered Matt Bradley as he followed Semin and Green out onto the ice.

The rest of the team filed out of the locker room and onto the rink. Just as Backstrom was about to follow them all out, Alex reached out and stopped him. Backstrom looked up, giving Ovechkin a startled look.

"What?" he asked, looking confused.

Ovechkin gave him a stern, knowing look, "I think you and Perreault need to have a talk before we hit the ice…I don't want any issues tonight at the game."

Backstrom swallowed back the bile that rose up in his throat. He nodded slightly, feeling suddenly very tense and nervous as he turned around to face Perreault. Mathieu was just finishing up lacing his skates. He stood up and grabbed his stick, preparing to head out onto the rink. When he looked up and saw Nicklas Backstrom he froze, his smile vanishing and a look of fear and shock took its place.

Backstrom looked down immediately when he saw Perreault's reaction. The familiar feeling of guilt and regret slammed into him like a freight train. Ovechkin cleared his throat and explained the situation.

"I know this is kind of an awkward situation," began Alex as he put a hand on Perreault's shoulder and the other hand on Backstrom's shoulder, "But things have changed…Nicky got into a fight with Crosby and walked out on the Penguins because he realized what he had done was wrong. He's done with them and he's back with us again. He knows it's going to take awhile to regain our trust but he's willing to tough it out and prove himself to us again. So…I'm going to go out there and help Semin lead practice. I want you two to talk and work things out and when you're done you can join us out on the ice, okay?"

Ovechkin made eye-contact with both of the young players before he turned around and left the locker room.

Backstrom shifted uneasily as he forced himself to look up and make eye-contact with the young rookie. He winced a little when he saw the bruises and the breathing strip on Perreault's nose.

"How…how bad?" asked Nicklas as he gestured toward Perreault's nose.

Mathieu glanced away as he answered, "It broke in a couple places…and bruised up the areas around it. It looked a lot worse than it actually was…it bled a lot."

Backstrom nodded stiffly, biting his lower lip as guilt overwhelmed him again, "I…I, um, I know saying sorry is kind of lame and not nearly enough after what I've done…especially what I did to you. But it's all I know to do or say to make things right again. I'm very sorry, Perreault…I never meant for you to get that hurt. I never wanted to do this to you. I know…you probably hate my guts and its fine, I understand. Just know that I'm sorry and that I'll make it up to you and to the rest of the team…I swear."

Perreault smiled a little and rolled his eyes, "Oh please, it's a broken nose, I'll survive," he said with a laugh as he reached out and hugged Backstrom.

Nicklas' eyes bulged with shock as he felt the young, energetic rookie hug him. He hugged the kid back, smirking slightly in amusement. Nothing could keep this kid down, literally _nothing_.

"Thank…thank you," stammered Backstrom as Perreault finally pulled away, "I definitely don't deserve your forgiveness…especially not that fast."

Perreault laughed, "I hate being angry…might as well forgive and forget so we can move on. Now, are we done with all this soppy stuff so we can go out there and practice? I want to kick some Penguin ass tonight!"

Backstrom felt himself smile, really smile, for the first time in a very long time. He laughed at Perreault's easy-going nature and nodded in agreement.

"You and me both Mathieu…you and me both."

…

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	17. Breakthrough

**Thanks for reading! : ) **

The roaring of the crowd had Backstrom's heart hammering in his chest as he geared up for the game. Game one of the first round of the playoffs was taking place in Pittsburgh and it was guaranteed to be a rough one.

Backstrom's hands shook as he laced up his skates. It was bad enough that he would have to come face to face with Sidney Crosby again…but he also wasn't confident that his teammates were behind him completely. Although it had helped immensely that Perreault had not only forgiven him but had also gone out of his way to show that there was no bad blood between them. The young rookie made sure that Backstrom wasn't left alone on the practice rink or left to stand alone in the locker room while the rest of the team talked and goofed off. The team had taken notice of the two players' new and shocking friendship and some of the team had therefore begun to accept Backstrom once again. However, Backstrom's closest friends still kept their distance…especially Green.

Nicklas frowned slightly as he glanced over at Green. They made eye-contact and Mike looked away immediately. Ovechkin glanced up and saw the look of pain and sadness in Backstrom's eyes. A pang of sympathy hit Alex as he watched his friend gear up alone on the other side of the locker room. Mathieu Perreault hurried over after he finished tying up his laces and patted Backstrom on the back, his eyes wide with anticipation as he talked excitedly into Nicklas' ear.

"Think we ought to let him off the hook already?" muttered Semin as he walked over to Ovechkin and Green, "Perreault has…and it's not like he's not suffering enough. I think he's learned his lesson by now don't you?"

Green snorted, "Who says he won't go back? After what he did…it's gonna take a lot more than a few 'sorrys' to earn my trust back."

Ovechkin sighed, "Mike's right…I'd love to forgive him and move on too but we just don't know if we can trust him yet. If he's still the Backstrom we know and love then he will prove himself…just give it time. Let's see how tonight goes."

Semin sighed and shook his head, "Whatever…I just want this all to be over with."

"Me too," agreed Perreault as he walked by the three players, giving them all a hard glare, "Let's get out there and _prove_ a few things to them, shall we?"

Ovechkin, Green and Semin looked away guiltily as Perreault and Backstrom walked passed them and out onto the ice.

"Don't be too hard on them," muttered Backstrom as he and Perreault took a warm up lap around the rink, "You can't blame them…not after what I've done."

"The hell I can't!" exclaimed Perreault, "It's stupid…so what you made a mistake? It happens, we all do stupid things. Forgive, forget and move on."

Backstrom smirked at the young kid, "Well I'm very grateful to have a friend right now…you're all I got at the moment."

Perreault rolled his eyes, "Oh please they still like you…just give them time."

Just then the intro music for the Pittsburgh Penguins blared through the speakers. The crowd stood to their feet and started cheering as their home team flew out onto the ice through a thick fog of smoke.

As the Penguins circled around on their side of the rink, Backstrom made eye-contact with Crosby. Nicklas felt his blood run cold when he saw the infuriated light in Crosby's eyes. The Penguins captain openly sneered at Backstrom as he skated by. He leaned over the center ice line and whispered, "Say your prayers _Nicky_…this isn't over."

Perreault started cursing and tried to rush Crosby. Backstrom stepped in front of Perreault and held him back, "Don't do it!" he hissed, "It's not worth it Mathieu…leave it!"

Perreault nodded curtly but gave Crosby a withering look before he and Backstrom back-peddled away from the center ice line and further into their side of the rink.

"I'll kill him," snarled Perreault, "I run him over…I'll slam him into the boards so hard it'll make that pinhead of his spin!"

"Calm down!" urged Backstrom, "We'll destroy him by sweeping the series, okay? Don't stoop to his level."

Suddenly the crowd was on their feet again, cheering and roaring loudly. Backstrom and Perreault whirled around to see what was going on.

"Aw shit," muttered Backstrom when he saw Mike Green wrestling on the ice with Crosby. Eric Fehr and Matt Bradley were wrestling with a couple of the other Penguins players as well. The rest of the two teams stood around, not sure what to do or how to react. After a few minutes the referees rushed over and broke up the brawl.

Mike shoved Crosby away from him and wiped his bloody lip on his sleeve. He bent over to pick up his gloves and adjusted his helmet. Crosby was spitting venom on the other side of the rink while the ref held him back. A small trickle of blood was coming from his nose and one of his eyes was beginning to blacken. Evengi Malkin also had a fat lip and was glaring daggers over at Fehr and Bradley.

Mike smiled victoriously as he skated over to rejoin his teammates. Perreault cheered loudly and gave Mike a huge hug. Mike laughed as he was nearly toppled over by the young, excited rookie. Ovechkin was laughing hysterically at his best friend.

"You look like you just got into a bar fight!" mocked Ovechkin as he patted his best friend on the back.

Green pretended to throw a right hook at Ovechkin, "Oh shut up," he laughed, "Did you see 'Cindy' Crosby? He's _still_ crying over there!"

Backstrom couldn't help but laugh at that. He glanced over at the Penguin's bench where they were tending to Crosby's injuries and sure enough there he was, whining and motioning down at the Capitals side of the arena, insisting that penalties be dished out for the injustice that had been done to him.

Feeling a small surge of confidence, Backstrom skated over to Mike and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Thanks for that," said Backstrom with a tight smile, "I mean I would have liked to do it myself but…"

Mike froze for a second when he turned and saw it was Backstrom who had placed a hand on his shoulder. He eased up a bit though as his friend congratulated him on his battle with the Penguins cry-baby captain.

"Yeah…anytime," said Mike as he patted Backstrom on the shoulder, "And I mean that…_any_time."

Backstrom smiled broadly at Mike's reaction to his attempt at being friendly. Perhaps he was making progress after all?

Just then the referee blew his whistle and called the teams together for the faceoff, "Now can we _please___at least drop the puck before the next blowup?"

Backstrom smirked in amusement as he lined up for the faceoff. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who the Penguins had chosen for the faceoff.

"Hey Nicky," sneered Crosby, "Ready to play?"

Backstrom swallowed nervously but forced himself to remain strong. He wouldn't let Crosby bully him…never again.

"Oh I'm ready," snarled Backstrom, "Bring it on asshole!"

Crosby snarled under his breath as the ref prepared to drop the puck. Backstrom steeled himself and prepared for what he knew would be the hardest game of his life…

…

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**And Happy New Year!**


	18. Turnaround

**Thanks as always for reading! : )**

**CONGRATS TO THE CAPITALS FOR AN EPIC VICTORY OVER THE PENGUINS IN THE WINTER CLASSIC! Once again the boys in RED are making history! : )**

The puck drop and all chaos ensued. Backstrom lunged for the puck and swiped it away before Crosby had a chance to touch it. The pass connected with Mike Green who circled back and waited for the rest of the team to set up a play. As he turned back around he picked up speed and raced over the center ice line.

"Greenie!" shouted Semin from up ahead and to the right of Green.

Green glanced up and sent a sweeping pass up to Semin. Semin charged down the ice and whipped around behind the Penguins net. Fleury, the Penguins goaltender, followed his every move, his eyes never leaving the puck as Semin passed it over to Backstrom who had maneuvered himself in an open lane across the ice.

Backstrom felt the puck connect with his stick and glanced up, looking for an open shot or another open channel to pass it. Crosby snarled in front of Backstrom as he skated up to him menacingly. Nicklas ducked out of the way and sent a quick pass over to Mike Green. Mike saw Backstrom's quick maneuver and stopped quickly in order to intercept the pass. Without hesitation he shot the puck at the net the second it connected with his stick.

Mike let out a growl of frustration as he watched Fleury deftly knock the puck clear of the net. Ovechkin picked up the rebound and sent a short wrister to the glove of Fleury who promptly dropped it back on the ice and passed it to Malkin. Semin slammed into Malkin while Backstrom swiped the puck away and made a mad dash to the net. He sent a powerful slapshot top shelf and suddenly the Penguins arena grew quiet.

Backstrom whipped around to see if his shot had gone in. Sure enough, Fleury was hitting the post with his goalie stick in frustration and Ovechkin was screaming his head off with excitement. He charged Backstrom and nearly bowled him over as he congratulated his old friend. Nicklas blinked in astonishment as Mike Green did the same, giving his friend a quick hug and a pat on the back. Mathieu Perreault was screaming loudly from the bench and soon the whole team was chanting "Backstrom" at the top of their lungs, much to the Penguins disgust.

Sidney Crosby slammed his stick into the boards and let out a roar of fury as he glared over at the celebrating Capitals players. His icy glare shifted over to Backstrom as his lip curled up in loathing. Nicklas returned the glare with a sneer of his own as he looked at Crosby from head to toe in disgust. The arrogant Penguins captain could take a little of his own medicine…see how he liked being double-crossed!

Backstrom skated back over to the Capitals bench for a line change, his teammates cheering and clapping him on the back as Perreault lead the next line out onto the ice. Backstrom smiled and felt a wave of confidence come over him. His team was finally starting to back him up again…

…

By the third period the Penguins were losing five to zero. Backstrom had scored another goal and Perreault, Ovechkin and Green had claimed the other three goals. Crosby and his team were beside themselves with fury as they skated anxiously on their side of the rink. There were only ten minutes left in the game and Crosby knew that the chances of his team winning were non-existent. His eyes suddenly glittered as an idea came to mind. He quickly skated over to Malkin and whispered in his ear, glancing over at the Capitals side of the arena the whole time.

"What's he doing?" sneered Perreault as he, Green, Ovechkin, Semin and Backstrom huddled on their side of the ice, "Gossiping again?"

Backstrom swallowed nervously as he gazed across the ice. He had seen that look in Crosby's eyes before…it was the same look he had as he told Backstrom his plan of taking out Perreault just a few weeks ago.

"No…he's up to something," murmured Nicklas, "Watch your backs. Whatever this is it isn't good."

Ovechkin narrowed his eyes as he glared at Crosby. Green cursed under his breath as he verbally threatened Crosby's life while Semin and Perreault exchanged uneasy glances. Soon the referee blew the whistle and gathered the players together for the face off. Backstrom steeled himself and took his place at center ice…

…

"Two minutes boys!" shouted Boudreau, "Let's make this game a shut out for Varly down there alright?"

"Hell yeah!" shouted Ovechkin, "Last shift guys! Let's do this!"

Ovechkin, Green, Semin, Perreault and Backstrom took to the ice, ready to end one of the best games they had played all season. They had managed to hold off the Penguins and now were looking at a shut out game. This game could not get any better.

As soon as the puck dropped, Ovechkin gained possession of it. He skated furiously down the ice, leading the Penguins away from Varlamov. He made a quick side-pass over to Backstrom who was open on the other side of the rink. Backstrom snatched up the pass easily and moved to plow through the Penguins' defensive line.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Backstrom saw movement. He glanced over just as he heard Perreault and Green shout out a warning, but it was too late. He made eye-contact with a seething Sidney Crosby and knew instantly what was about to happen…and there was no time to stop it. He braced himself as Crosby made contact. He felt himself fly across the ice and slam into the boards then Backstrom's whole world faded into blackness…

…

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	19. Counterstrike

**Decided to write another one…especially since the last chapter was a hang-off ending I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long : ) **

"I'll kill you!" roared Green as he slammed into Sidney Crosby and tackled him to the ice.

"Backstrom!" shouted Perreault as he skated over to where his new-found friend was lying on the ice, "Nicky! Aw come on man, wake up! Don't do this to me!"

Malkin made a move to help Crosby with Green but Ovechkin plowed into the fellow Russian, bowling him over and throwing him down onto the ice. The Capitals bench had cleared for the first time in many years and through themselves at the Penguins' players. The Penguins followed suite and cleared their bench, creating a massive fight in the center of the rink. Fans were roaring in the stands and the players roared with anger and cried out in pain as the fight raged on. The noise was absolutely deafening on the ice as the referees tried in vain to break up the fight.

"Nicky!" cried Perreault in panic when Backstrom's eyes wouldn't open, "Aw shit…aw shit…Nicky don't do this…come on man…wake up!"

The medical team for the Capitals weaved in-between the throngs of infuriated players and made their way over to Backstrom. They quickly slid him onto a plastic stretcher and began carrying him off of the ice. Perreault led the way out of the rink, shoving the brawling players out of their way as they made their way back to the locker room…

…

About half an hour later order was finally restored on the rink. Crosby was bleeding heavily from a cut above his eyebrow and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. He leaned heavily on the Penguins bench, gasping for air as he glanced fearfully over his shoulder at Green. The infuriated Capitals defenseman had pinned him down and held an arm over his throat for quite some time and Crosby was having difficulty catching his breath.

Green glared back at Crosby as he skated over to his bench. He had only suffered minor bruising from Crosby's vain attempts to throw him off. Ovechkin's lip wound from earlier in the game had reopened and some of the other players had bruises on their faces and bleeding noses. No one had escaped the fight unscathed.

It took the refs a long time to restore order and clean up the bloody and cut up ice. Finally they called the players back out onto the arena, gave them a stern warning as to how the last three minutes of the game was to be played, and then dropped the puck.

Ovechkin rammed his shoulder into Crosby's, knocking the Penguins captain onto the ice. Semin and Perreault charged toward the net, their eyes alight with fury after the injustice that had been done to Backstrom. With a quick wrister, Semin passed the puck to Perreault who deftly slid it in-between Fleury's legs, giving the Capitals a six goal lead over the Pens.

"That one was for Nicky," snarled Perreault as he got in Crosby's face.

"Easy," warned Semin as he pushed Perreault away from the seething Penguins Captain, "Let it go…it's over Crosby."

"The hell it is," he snarled, "We have at least three more games to go in this series…you're finished…you all are!"

"This coming from the guy with eight stitches in his face," mocked Mike Green as he skated over to them.

Crosby instantly moved away as Mike Green drew closer. His eyes flashed with fear for a brief moment and Green smiled victoriously at his reaction.

"Let's go!" shouted the ref, giving the players a warning look.

Green laughed under his breath as he skated back to the faceoff circle. He had put the fear of God into Crosby and it felt so damn good…

…

The second the third period ended, the Capitals made a bee-line for the locker room, anxious to hear an update on Nicklas Backstrom's condition.

"How is he?" pressed Perreault the second they stepped into the locker room, "Where is he? What'd the doctors say? Is it bad?"

"Settle down," said Coach Boudreau as he called the anxious team to order, "He's been taken to the local hospital. The doc says he should be fine. That blow from Crosby knocked him out cold but he should be alright. If you guys want you can go see him once you've cleaned this place up and packed up your gear, alright?"

Perreault, Ovechkin, Green and Semin exchanged quick, knowing glances and then quickly stripped off their gear and packed their bags. They made a bee-line for the exit and jumped into their cars, speeding out of the parking lot and out onto the streets of Pittsburgh…

…

"Mr. Backstrom?"

Nicklas' eyes flickered open. He flinched at the harsh light and put a hand up to shield his eyes.

"What? What…where am I?" he mumbled as he tried to sit up.

A sudden piercing pain caused Backstrom to grimace as he fell back onto the bed. He blinked his eyes open in shock as he hesitantly felt the back of his head.

"What the hell…?"

"Easy there," said the doctor in a calming voice, "You took quite a spill. You have a minor concussion and several severe bruises on your side and on your arm from where you hit the boards. That must have been some hit eh?"

Backstrom's brow furrowed as he fought back the pain and wave of nausea and tried to remember what had happened. Then it all came rushing back to him in a series of blindingly fast images…five minutes left on the clock…five to zero…setting up for the final push of the game…intercepting a pass…then Crosby's enraged glare as he rushed him, the sound of his friends crying out a warning, then darkness…and now a hospital.

"Yeah…it was," muttered Backstrom numbly.

"Tell you what, I'll give you some time to adjust and get your mind wrapped around things," said the doctor as he stood to leave, "We're going to keep you here overnight for observation but you should be able to travel back to DC with your team in the morning."

Backstrom nodded and lay back on the pillow. He kept replaying the scene in his mind, wondering how in the world he had managed to lose sight of Crosby. He had made it a point to keep his eye on the shady Penguins captain throughout the game, knowing that he would be seeking revenge for Backstrom's double-cross. But for some reason, some way, he had forgotten to keep one eye on him…just for a split second…but that was all it had taken. Crosby had made his move and won.

The thought of Crosby winning anything at all infuriated Backstrom. His fist slammed down on his bed as anger overwhelmed him. Crosby would pay for this…he would pay for everything…he would make sure of that.

Just then, a loud commotion out in the hallway jolted Backstrom from his thoughts. He looked up in surprise to see Alexander Ovechkin, Alex Semin, Mathieu Perreault and Mike Green pushing through two nurses and making a bee-line for his room. He smirked in amusement as he listened to the chaos just beyond the glass wall of his hospital room:

"Come on ladies," said Ovechkin, trying to sweet talk his way through, "Just a few minutes and we'll leave."

"He can't see anyone except for immediate family members!" shouted the woman in a high-pitched voice.

"Trust me lady we are his close 'family members'," sneered Perreault as he rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Now get the hell out of our way!"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Green, backing Perreault up, "Back the hell off! Damn it!"

Semin just hung back and smirked as he watched Perreault and Green try to fight off the two lady nurses while Ovechkin tried to flirt his way past another nurse.

"Its okay!" called Backstrom from his room, "They can come in!"

The nurses all exchanged exasperated and annoyed looks as they huffed and stormed away from the gruff-looking hockey players. Alex Ovechkin blew them all a kiss and winked at them as they stormed off.

Semin laughed out loud at that and shook his head, "You're shameless, Ovi, absolutely shameless!"

Ovechkin just shrugged and pretended to brush his shoulders off as they walked into Backstrom's hospital room.

"Hey!" exclaimed Perreault as he rushed over to Backstrom's bedside, "How are you? The doc said you're gonna be alright!"

Backstrom laughed at the concern in Perreault's eyes, "Yeah don't worry…just a massive headache and a slight concussion, no big."

"Oh it's a 'big' alright," growled Mike Green, "Crosby's gonna die in DC...I'm gonna mess that little punk up for this!"

Backstrom smirked at Green's violent reaction and Semin rolled his eyes again in exasperation.

"Good Lord, Mike don't you think you messed the pretty boy's face up enough already?"

Perreault sneered, "Nah we got more where that came from, eh Mike?"

Green nodded in agreement and fist-bumped with Perreault. Backstrom raised an eyebrow in surprise at the new friendship that was blossoming between Green and Perreault. It looked like the team was finally coming back together.

"You should have seen him Nicky!" laughed Ovechkin, "I thought he was gonna tear Crosby's face off!"

Nicklas Backstrom raised an eyebrow and feigned surprise, "What? Mikey? Violent? No never!"

Green rolled his eyes, "For real though…I messed that kid up! He couldn't see out of his right eye for the last three minutes of the game!"

"Not to mention the eight stitches in his forehead," said Perreault with a gleam in his eye, "Pretty boy's perfect face ain't so perfect anymore!"

Backstrom laughed as he observed his friends. They all had a few bruises and minor cuts but all in all they weren't any worse for the wear. The mental image of Green destroying Crosby made Backstrom feel a hell of a lot better…not only had the back-stabbing, conniving Penguins captain gotten rocked by a Capitals player but Mike Green had defended him in front of thousands of people. It was a clear sign that the tide was changing and that things were back to normal.

And in that moment Backstrom couldn't remember being any happier…

…

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	20. Triumph

Throughout the rest of that week the Capitals and Penguins played one another, fighting for domination in the first round of playoffs. The Penguins won game six, making the total score three to three and forcing a game seven. Now it was do or die for the Capitals. They had to win this game or face losing to the Penguins and losing their shot at the Stanley Cup.

Backstrom lined up for the faceoff, his heart hammering in his chest as the crowd cheered him on. He had kept tabs on Crosby's position for the past five games and had avoided several near collisions. Crosby was hell-bent on taking him out that was a fact. One more game and this would be over…either way Backstrom would be able to leave Crosby behind for a few months before the next season started.

As Malkin lined up with Backstrom for the faceoff, the two players made eye-contact. Malkin nodded curtly as he bent down and prepared for the puck drop. Backstrom did the same and the second the puck hit the ice he swept it away from Malkin and into Ovechkin's possession. A flash out of the corner of his eye warned Backstrom that Crosby was making a move. He stopped quickly and ducked out of the way. Crosby let out a roar of frustration as Backstrom slid out of his grasp once again. Nicklas smirked a little at the arrogant Penguins captain before he skated off to help Ovechkin fight off the defense. So far…so good…

…

It was late in the third period and the Capitals were beginning to show signs of struggle. As they huddled around the bench for a time-out, Coach Boudreau noted the tired, worn looks on his players' faces. The Penguins had thrown everything they had at them and it was beginning to show.

"Alright they're playing the body tonight," said Boudreau as he gathered his team in, "We gotta play it right back. Don't let them overwhelm you with hits, just hit back. We've got three minutes left and its tied two to two. I want Backstrom, Ovechkin, Semin, Perreault and Green to take this next shift. All my best scorers…get out there and do some damage!"

"Hell yeah let's show them what we're made of!" shouted Ovechkin in his thick, Russian accent.

The five chosen players skated toward center ice for the faceoff and took their positions. Perreault was chosen for this faceoff and he slid over to where Crosby was waiting for the puck drop. He gave the arrogant captain a confident smirk before he moved into position. Crosby sneered back at the rookie as the puck dropped.

Backstrom immediately saw what Crosby would do. Nicklas was positioned just to the side of Perreault, ready to pick up a quick pass if necessary. He saw Crosby's shoulder go down as he lunged forward toward Perreault. With a roar of anger Backstrom rushed the Penguin's captain, throwing all of his weight into Crosby's side. Crosby let out a cry of surprise and pain as he toppled to the ice, leaving a lane wide open for Perreault to charge down the ice with the puck. Ovechkin and Semin followed him, shoving the defense out of the way as they charged toward the Penguins net. Backstrom and Green hung back a little, keeping one eye on Crosby as he struggled to regain his footing.

"You," snarled Crosby with fury as he glared over at Backstrom, "I'll…"

"Save it," growled Backstrom as he matched Crosby's icy glare, "You don't scare me…not anymore."

Green laughed as he pushed Crosby out of the way and went down to see what was happening on the other end of the rink. Backstrom followed him, keeping one eye on Crosby as the young captain charged past them to assist his team.

Perreault, Ovechkin and Semin were passing the puck back and forth, trying to find an open channel to shoot. Ovechkin growled with frustration as he was forced to pass the puck back to Perreault. Mathieu Perreault heard Backstrom's voice behind him as the young forward called out to his friend, letting him know he was open. Perreault deftly slid the puck behind him and Backstrom picked up the quick pass, sliding around Perreault and past the defense.

The Penguins were not prepared for the slick move and panicked as they scrambled to defend their net. Backstrom saw a lane open up in front of him as one of the Penguins' defenders tripped and fell. He took the shot and watched as the puck sailed past the glove hand of Fleury.

Instantly cheers erupted in the stands as the Capitals arena was filled with the deafening noise of ecstatic fans and players. Backstrom saw Crosby curse and break his stick over the net as he threw one of his temper tantrums. Green laughed at the sight as he turned to congratulate his friend. Ovechkin pounced on Backstrom, screaming and jumping up and down with excitement. Backstrom laughed as he was nearly run over by his friends. Perreault, Semin and Green joined the happy celebration and soon Backstrom found himself in the middle of a huge celebration. The Capitals bench had cleared and all the players formed an excited, loud throng around Backstrom. The noise was deafening and it was hard to breath in the middle of the crowd but Backstrom didn't notice…all he knew was that he had finally dealt the death blow to his enemy…the Penguins had fallen to the Capitals and were out of the playoffs…and, more importantly, he had his friends back…

…

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	21. Afterward and Sequel Preview

**Afterward:**

Sure enough, Nicklas Backstrom had regained his friends. They through a huge celebratory party after the game and officially made their amends. Backstrom was hailed as a hero and the team saw him in an all-new light. He was given his letter "A" back and took his leadership role seriously. He saw to it that all the players were taken care of and that they were always prepared for the next game.

The Capitals went on to the second round of the playoffs against the Montreal Canadiens. Unfortunately they lost in game seven and were eliminated from the running. Despite the sadness of losing the playoffs, the Capitals couldn't shake the high that came from defeating the Penguins. They had made so much progress this year they were convinced that next year would be the year they won the Stanley. The Chicago Blackhawks ended up winning the cup that year and the Capitals congratulated the west coast team on their victory, but vowed to take the Stanley Cup from them the following year.

…

**Sequel Preview:**

I decided to write a sequel to this story : ) It will be called "Breakaway" so keep an eye out for it!

Kristine is a 21 year old girl with a mission: to play in the NHL. After a long legal battle and several tests to prove her abilities, she's accepted onto the Washington Capitals NHL hockey team. She makes fast friends with several of the guys on the team but soon runs into a certain player from the Capitals rival team, the Pittsburgh Penguins. After dealing with some serious issues with the Penguins just one season ago, things are still very sensitive. Kristine's new relationship with the Penguin's player makes things both awkward and dangerous for both teams involved. But more than that, someone on her own team already has feelings for her…torn between her loyalty to the Capitals and her love for the Penguins player, Kristine is at a loss. Complications arise that will forever alter the Capitals team. Love, loss, betrayal, and friendship all in one story!

Here is the song that inspired the story if you want to get another taste as to what it will be like:

Fighter by Christina Aguilera

After all that you put me through,  
You think I'd despise you,  
But in the end I wanna thank you,  
'Cause you've made me that much stronger

Well I thought I knew you, thinkin' that you were true  
Guess I, I couldn't trust called your bluff time is up  
Cause I've had enough  
You were there by my side, always down for the ride  
But your joy ride just came down in flames cause your greed sold me out in shame

After all of the stealing and cheating you probably think that I hold resentment for you  
But uh uh, oh no, you're wrong  
Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do, I wouldn't know  
Just how capable I am to pull through  
So I wanna say thank you  
Cause it

Makes me that much stronger  
Makes me work a little bit harder  
It makes me that much wiser  
So thanks for making me a fighter  
Made me learn a little bit faster  
Made my skin a little bit thicker  
Makes me that much smarter  
So thanks for making me a fighter

Never saw it coming, all of your backstabbing  
Just so you could cash in on a good thing before I'd realize your game  
I heard you're going round play, the victim now  
But don't even begin feeling I'm the one to blame  
Cause you dug your own grave  
After all of the fights and the lies cause you're wanting to haunt me  
But that won't work anymore, no more,  
It's over  
Cause if it wasn't for all of your torture  
I wouldn't know how to be this way now and never back down  
So I wanna say thank you  
Cause it

How could this man I thought I knew  
Turn out to be unjust so cruel  
Could only see the good in you  
Pretend not to know the truth  
You tried to hide your lies, disguise yourself  
Through living in denial  
But in the end you'll see  
YOU-WONT-STOP-ME

I am a fighter and I  
I ain't gonna stop  
There is no turning back  
I've had enough

You thought I would forget  
But I remembered  
Cause I remembered  
I remembered  
You thought I would forget  
I remembered  
Cause I remembered  
I remembered


End file.
